A Very Superwholock Christmas
by Utdragongirl
Summary: Dean wants to do something special for his first Christmas out of Hell, so he gets Bobby and Sam to decorate and celebrate with him. When he makes a mysterious phone call, Sam and Cas try to carry on, but something's up. This is a superwholock crossover (in case you didn't read the title *shrugs*) and it is Christmas themed. Just fair warning!
1. Chapter 1

Sam sat on the couch, staring at Dean, who was on the phone. Bobby sat at his desk amongst the boxes of dusty Christmas decorations that Cas had found in the attic. Dean turned to his brother before pointing at the boxes, telling him to get on it. Sam rolled his eyes and got up, hating this idea.

"Do we really have to do this?" Sam groaned, opening up one of the boxes. Bobby looked up from his own box.

"Decorate? Or have Christmas?" Bobby asked as Sam sighed.

"Both," Sam whispered as Bobby placed a brass reindeer on the table.

"This is Dean's first Christmas out of Hell, Sam. The boy deserves it," Bobby reminded as Sam sighed. Dean had spent four months in Hell, but for Dean, it was forty years. Forty years without a single Christmas. Sam knew that Dean wanted nothing more than happy family time, but Sam still disliked Christmas. "At least pretend like you're happy he's back."

"I am happy that he's back," Sam protested, but was immediately interrupted by Cas's sudden appearance.

"This is the last box," Cas informed, setting the small box next to the reindeer. Bobby nodded and looked in it, surprised that he had so much stuff. Dean noticed Cas's appearance and smiled, still trying to get a hold of someone on the phone.

"Hey, Cas, can you grab some eggnog?" Dean smiled as Cas nodded, but turned to Sam confused.

"Eggnog?" the angel asked, not sure what it was or where to find some. Sam rolled his eyes and told Cas that he would go get it, since he needed some time away from this 'happy family' time. Bobby watched as the young Winchester left, leaving Cas with nothing to do. "Who is Dean talking to?

"No idea. He kept saying 'Doctor', but he wouldn't tell me doctor who," Bobby sighed, putting the box Cas had given him on the floor. Cas stared at Dean, wondering who this Doctor was and why he was calling him. Within a moment, Dean swore under his breath before tossing the phone on the couch. "What?"

"He never answers the damn phone," Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Cas tilted his head to the side, wondering why it mattered. Dean rarely called anyone outside of Cas, Sam, and Bobby.

"Who doesn't?" Cas asked, hoping to get a straight answer.

"The Doctor," Dean replied, picking up the phone again and sliding it into his pocket.

"Doctor who?" Cas continued before Dean smiled and shook his head. Bobby rolled his eyes, wondering why Dean wouldn't tell any of them who this guy was. It wasn't a second before Dean grabbed his coat and opened the door.

"Where are you going?" Bobby demanded, not wanting to decorate his house on his own. Especially since it wasn't his idea in the first place. Dean looked back and grabbed the door.

"Inviting a friend," Dean replied before going out. As the door slammed behind him, Bobby exhaled and looked at Cas.

"How fast can you get these decorations up?" Bobby asked before Cas turned his head. Before he could even blink, all the decorations were up and all the boxes were put away. "Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

~~C~~

The Doctor ignored the phone as it rang off the hook. Rose glanced over it once or twice, wondering why he wouldn't answer it. However, it wasn't that he was ignoring it. He was just distracted, wondering where a good place to spend Christmas would be. He really didn't want to go back and have Christmas with Jackie again. Of course, he would, but he wanted his Christmas first. Rose just stared at the phone, wondering if she should answer it. Before she could make a decision, it stopped ringing and she looked up at the Doctor, who was still staring at the monitors.

"Doctor?" she whispered, bringing him back to reality. He turned around quickly and went wide eyed.

"What?"

"The phone," Rose hinted as he glanced at it.

"What about it?" he asked before biting his lip.

"It was ringing."

"Was it really? Oh, well, if it's really important, then they'll call again," the Doctor reasoned before Rose sighed. Suddenly earth popped up on his screen and he narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Earth?"

"What?" Rose asked, standing beside him. The Doctor looked over the monitor before hitting the side a couple of times. He didn't want to go to earth. He specifically told the computer that he did not want to go to earth for Christmas. However, being curious, he let the computer continue as a map appeared on the screen. Rose looked over his shoulder. The map first zoomed in on North America. Then the United States. Then South Dakota. It wasn't long until the image focused on the final picture, showing a man arranging scrap parts from a junk yard to spell out the word Doctor. "Doctor?"

"Get me the phone," he whispered as Rose handed him the cell phone. He looked at it as the name _Dean Winchester_ appeared on the screen. He quickly dialed the number as the monitor restarted the search. The Doctor grew impatient as the phone rang. Why would Dean be calling him? They hadn't talked in months. Not after the argument they had. Maybe something was wrong. The Doctor recalled that Dean had said something was wrong with Sam last time they met. Maybe it was about Sam.

_"Hello?"_ A hoarse voice answered as the Doctor exhaled. Dean sounded fine.

"Why did you call me?" the Doctor demanded, running a hand through his hair.

_"I need you to get here quick,"_ Dean replied as the Doctor turned to look at Rose.

"Why?"

_"Just get over here,"_ Dean whispered, not wanting to give away the surprise of a Christmas party.

"Is everything alright?" the Doctor asked as the connection started to give out.

_"Wha… I… an't… he…" _Dean voice called out between static buzzes. The Doctor looked at the phone and the connection was gone. Panicking, the Doctor ran back over to the console and started to press buttons.

"Doctor?!" Rose exclaimed, hating to be out of the loop. "Where are we going?"

"South Dakota. Well, we're going to make a stop along the way."

"Why?" Rose demanded, unsure what was going on.

"I promised a friend something a while back," the Doctor answered, almost in riddles. Rose rolled her eyes.

"Doctor, what are we doing?"

"Probably something dangerous," the Doctor grimaced as he pulled a lever, sending them god knows where.

~~C~~

Dean hung up the phone, smiling. His tactic had worked after all. He wasn't sure how, but it did. He tucked the phone away and walked back to the house. He stopped for a moment, surprised that the front was already decorated. It made Bobby's house look livable again. Dean grinned and walked inside.

The Hunter awed at the wonderland that he had walked into. It looked like an old fashioned Christmas farmhouse someone would see on an old, sappy Christmas movie. The tree was in the living room, cleverly tucked in the corner as the lights twinkled and ornaments shined. Garland hung from the walls with red bows at the ends. There were even Christmas dishes filled with small candies on the end tables. As Dean grabbed a few chocolates and turned, he found a porcelain nativity on the bookshelf. He tilted his head to the side, never thinking that Bobby was religious.

He continued into Bobby's office, where there were stockings hanging over the fireplace. There was even a small tree on the small table next to his desk. Bobby was quietly reading about something at his desk when Cas appeared beside him.

"You guys put this up quick," Dean remarked, wondering how long he had been outside.

"Cas magicked it together after you left," Bobby informed, hardly looking up from his book. Cas smiled, proud of himself.

"Well, it looks great," Dean smiled, guessing that was the case. "Is Sam back?"

"Not yet. Why?" Bobby asked, glancing up for a second. Dean shrugged, still looking around at everything.

"Figured he would be back by now," Dean whispered before Bobby put the book down.

"Look, Dean, Sam isn't really up for the Christmas theme right now," Bobby informed as Dean nodded, understanding.

"I know," Dean whispered, not wanting to give it much thought.

"Just go easy on him. Do remember his last Christmas? He thought you were going to be lost forever in the pits of Hell," Bobby reminded as Dean looked away, not wanting to talk about it. Cas looked between them, listening.

"I know," Dean repeated. He had really wanted this Christmas to make up for the last one. He wanted to make new Christmas memories for his brother to make it a happier time of year. He didn't want Sam to hate the season forever. "Hey, I saw a nativity is the living room. I never pinned you to be religious."

"A nativity? I don't remember having no nativity," Bobby replied before looking at Cas.

"I went out and got one for you," Cas informed, surprising Dean.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Jesus is the reason we even have this holiday," Cas reminded, surprised at the two of them. Dean glanced over at Bobby, who just shrugged. "Do you not believe in Jesus?"

"I didn't believe in you a few months ago," Dean countered before Cas looked away, thinking that made sense.

"Why did you go outside anyway?" Bobby asked, looking at Dean.

"I told you. Inviting a friend," Dean answered cryptically. Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Which friend?"

"An old friend. Don't worry, you'll get to meet him."

"Is he that Doctor guy?" Bobby guessed as Dean nodded. "Look, I don't usually like company, so this guy better be pretty damn special."

"He is," Dean replied, thinking that was one way of describing him. Before Bobby could say another thing, Sam entered the room with a half-gallon of eggnog. Sam stared at the walls and decorations. "Hey, Sam."

"What happened?" he asked, thinking that Bobby's place actually looked nice for once.

"Cas put it up," Dean informed before Sam nodded at Cas. "You remember the Doctor, don't you?"

"Doctor? Maybe. Doctor who?" Sam answered, giving Dean the bag.

"The Doctor," Dean tried again, earning a strange look from Sam. "The one that we met before I went six feet under."

"You mean that madman?" Sam asked as Bobby turned to Dean.

"You invited a madman to my house?" Bobby demanded, stressing Dean out.

"No, no, he isn't a madman," Dean urged, reassuring Bobby. Sam raised his eyebrows, thinking that that man was definitely a madman. "He's just eccentric."

"Pretty damn special indeed," Bobby retorted as Dean rolled his eyes.

"What about him?" Sam asked as Cas stood next to Dean.

"I invited him over for Christmas," Dean answered before Bobby stared at Dean.

"Christmas is tomorrow," Sam reminded, thinking that was too short of a notice for a Christmas party.

"Yes, I know. You think I don't know that?" Dean argued. "And he sounded like he was coming."

"Didn't you two argue over something last time? Why are you calling him up now?" Sam asked, irritating Dean.

"When you've spent forty years in Hell, you start to regret things. He is one of the things that I regret. I shouldn't have shut him out," Dean answered before Sam nodded.

"I see. Well, I hope he comes," Sam sighed before walking into the kitchen. Dean nodded and turned around to see Cas standing a foot in front of him.

"Cas, personal space, please," Dean whispered before Cas nodded, a bit embarrassed, and took a step back. Dean nodded and walked into the other room to get more of those chocolate candies.


	2. Chapter 2

John held a mug of tea as he looked out the window. The sun was setting as darkness settled over the city of London. It was Christmas Eve and he was alone once again. Well, he had Sherlock, but his last girlfriend just dumped him, just like all the others. John wanted to have another Christmas party, but since Sherlock was so awful at the last one, he decided against it.

"John!" Sherlock called as he burst into the room. John jumped, nearly dropping his tea.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John asked, looking over at him.

"Did you hear that?" Sherlock demanded before he dashed over to the window. John listened for a moment before shaking his head.

"No," John whispered, thinking that Sherlock may have finally had gone crazy.

"That wvorping?" Sherlock insisted as he ran into the kitchen.

"No," John muttered, sipping his tea. Sherlock looked out the window, looking for something. John thought about asking him what it was he was looking for, but decided against it. He had probably lost a disembodied head or something and couldn't find it again. Sherlock ran back upstairs, confusing John. What did he mean by a wvorping noise? Maybe it wasn't a head he had lost. Shrugging, John walked over to the desk and pulled out his laptop before the doorbell rang. John paused a moment, confused. Who would be here on Christmas Eve? Mrs. Hudson decided to go to her family's for Christmas, so it wasn't any of her guests, and Sherlock never had guests that weren't clients. The doorbell rang again, telling John that it wasn't a client or a salesperson.

Slowly, John walked downstairs, wondering who would be at the door. When he opened it, he found a rather tall man with a pin striped suit and pointy hair and a pretty blonde woman by his side. He glanced between them as they looked at each other.

"Can I help you?" John asked, glancing down the street to make sure that this wasn't some sort of prank.

"We're looking for Sherlock," the man whispered as the woman nodded. John smiled and nodded.

"Clients?" he guessed, thinking that his deductive skills were rusty. "Why don't you come back after Christmas?"

"We're not clients," the man insisted, surprising John.

"You're not?"

"Sherlock's a friend," the man answered, making John laugh.

"Did Anderson put you up to this?" John asked as Rose raise an eyebrow.

"No. Can I just see him?" the man asked as John shrugged, not seeing a harm in it. He opened the door to let the strange couple in. John asked them to sit down before he went upstairs to get Sherlock.

Sherlock was staring out the window when John knocked on the door. Sherlock smiled and turned toward the door as his friend came in.

"There are two people downstairs wanting to see you," John informed as Sherlock nodded.

"I noticed," Sherlock replied as John nodded.

"Of course you did. Well, the man says that he knows you and that he's your friend?" John answered before leaving. Sherlock grinned as he looked down at the street and say the TARDIS tucked in the alleyway across the street. Then he turned around to go downstairs to meet an old friend.

Sherlock casually walked down the steps to find the Doctor and his new companion sitting in the living room, drinking tea that John had offered them. As Sherlock came into the entryway, the Doctor noticed and stood up to greet him.

"Hello, Doctor," Sherlock smiled, shaking his hand.

"Sherly," the Doctor smiled as Rose stood up. "This is my companion Rose Tyler. Rose, meet Sherlock Holmes."

"You mean the man in the newspapers?" Rose asked before shaking Sherlock's hand as well. Sherlock merely nodded as John sat awkwardly behind them.

"What brings you to modern day London?" Sherlock asked, putting his hands behind his back.

"Well, remember when I told you that bet we made about legendary creatures?" the Doctor reminded as Sherlock nodded.

"The one where I told you they didn't exist? Yes, I remember, and you said that you would show me them one day," Sherlock added before chuckling. "You're not going to show them to me now, are you Doctor?"

"Not exactly. I wanted you to meet my friends that hunt them down. It sounded like they might be in trouble and this might be a great opportunity to show you and get your help," the Doctor answered as Sherlock tilted his head.

"Why would you need my help?" Sherlock implored, surprised at the notion.

"You are a consulting detective and you have skills that are absolutely unique. I was wondering if you would want to solve a mystery about the monsters," the Doctor explained as Sherlock glanced over at John, who was confused and shaking his head.

"Sounds interesting," Sherlock admitted as John covered his head in his hands. "When would we leave?"

"I was hoping now, if you're not busy," the Doctor answered.

"It is Christmas Eve," John reminded.

"We didn't make any plans to celebrate, though. You made sure of that, John," Sherlock retorted as John laughed darkly, hating when he turned to tables like that. "We would be delighted to come."

"Where are we even going?" John demanded.

"South Dakota in America," the Doctor answered, turning to look at John. "Think of it as a free vacation."

"Are we're going to leave now? What about plane tickets and hotels?" John reasoned, thinking that this man was mad.

"Don't need any. I have my own ride," the Doctor informed as Rose rolled her eyes. Sherlock shrugged.

"It's not the most conventional way to travel," Sherlock admitted, remembering his first trip on the TARDIS. He nearly had a mental breakdown with the impossibility of such a machine. It took him about a week to realize that it was just a portal to another dimension that connected anywhere they wanted to go.

"What? Do you like a have a private jet or something?" John inquired, wondering who these people were and why Sherlock never said a thing about either of them.

"Or something," the Doctor replied, looking at Rose. "Are we going or what?"

"Yes, let's get going," Sherlock agreed.

"Sherlock!" John nearly shouted as his friend looked at him.

"Are you coming, John?" Sherlock asked, confused on why he was being yelled at.

"This is madness!" John hissed, glancing over at the Doctor, who just shrugged. "We can't just travel to America."

"I can bring you back within a few minutes if you like," the Doctor suggested, meaning that it would be like they never left. John closed his eyes confused on what that even meant.

"Oh, come on, John. It will be an adventure," Sherlock urged as John just stared at him.

"Fine, but I want to be back in five minutes," John negotiated, hoping that the Doctor would panic and back pedal.

"Done. Come on, let's go," the Doctor replied, shocking John. Sherlock helped his friend up as the Doctor and Rose left.

"What?" John asked as Sherlock just smiled and followed the time lord. John ran behind him before grabbing his coat and locking the door.

The Doctor and Rose ran into the TARDIS, getting ready to set the coordinates. Sherlock walked with John, thinking that John would need some support when seeing the contraption. When they turned the corner, John just laughed.

"His transportation is a police box?" John laughed, knowing that this man was crazy.

"Yes," Sherlock agreed, surprising John. The detective walked right up to the blue box and walked in. John looked around, wondering if Sherlock had finally gained a sense of humor and was pranking him. Finding no one to jump out and laugh or video cameras, John cautiously opened the door to find that it was bigger on the inside.

"What?" John whispered, confused and shocked. Sherlock helped his friend to the middle of the room, where the Doctor and Rose were.

"You'll get used to it," the Doctor smiled as he prepared for the trip.

"How is this possible?" John muttered, looking around.

"It's better if you just don't ask," Rose informed before John sat down. Rose went to his side, filling him in as a new companion. Sherlock walked over to the Doctor and smiled.

"You've changed since the last time I saw you," Sherlock whispered as the Doctor chuckled.

"Yeah, I was surprised when you recognized me," the Doctor whispered with a smile.

"I saw the TARDIS outside my window when you landed," Sherlock informed, lying a little. He heard it before he saw it. "What made you regenerate?"

"Had to save Rose," the Doctor answered, staring at the monitor. Sherlock nodded before looking away himself.

"It's definitely different," Sherlock commented, making the Doctor smile. "Who are these hunters you were talking about?"

"The Winchesters. I helped them about a year ago, your time. Well, I stumbled upon them and nearly killed me, since I'm not human and we were investigating the same disappearances. Something was kidnapping people," the Doctor began. "I was able to convince them not to kill me and ended up helping them find the real thing. Anyway, I kept helping them and I found out that Dean had sold his soul and wanted me to look after Sam. Of course, Sam was drinking demon blood-"

"Demon blood?" Sherlock asked, surprised.

"Yes, and I didn't know what to do. Sam was being erratic and stubborn, and I wanted nothing to do with him. Dean started to argue about how that he had nowhere else to turn. When I told him no, he told me to leave and never come back," the Doctor answered.

"Then why are you going to help them?" Sherlock asked, not grasping the concept.

"Sam called me after Dean went to Hell, saying that he was going to try to bring Dean back," the Doctor answered as Sherlock nodded.

"You think that Sam has done something to get his brother back?"

"I know he did. He texted me a few months ago, telling me that Dean was back. I ignored the text, though. Even if it was true, Dean was clear that he didn't want me around," the Doctor explained. "About an hour ago, he called me, asking me to go see him. I don't know for what, but he wouldn't ask me to come if it wasn't absolutely dire."

"You choose your friends well, Doctor," Sherlock admitted, folding his arms. The Doctor smiled manically.

"I certainly do my best," the time lord whispered.

"Any idea what kind of trouble they may be in?"

"Not anything off the top of my head. Like I said, I think it has to do with Dean and Hell, and possibly Sam," the Doctor sighed before he flipped a switch. Sherlock pursed his lips as he began to think of the concept of Hell. Did Dean really go to Hell? Or was it just a saying? With the Doctor, Sherlock never really knew. "Alright, hold on."

"I hate this part," Sherlock mumbled before grabbing the console. John looked around, still confused, but held on anyway as the TARDIS began to sway and he began to scream.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean waited in the living room, wondering where the Doctor was. Then again, he was usually late. Sam paced the hallway, thinking that Dean should not have invited the time lord. Cas waited in the middle of the room, finding himself useless, but Dean had asked him to stay at least for the next two days for the holiday.

"Cas," Dean whispered, catching the angel's attention. "You don't have to stand there."

"I know," Cas answered calmly. Dean sighed and turned on the TV to find A Charlie Brown Christmas playing.

"Have you ever seen this?" Dean asked as Cas shook his head. Dean gestured for him to sit down on the chair beside him. Cas cautiously sat down, unsure what this was about. Dean smiled, thinking that this guy was something else.

About five minutes in, Cas started to get really into the show. Every once in a while, Cas would ask questions. _Why was the dog dancing? Is Lucy really qualified to be a psychiatrist? Why was the dog acting like a penguin?_ Dean would just shrug, unsure how to answer the question nicely. Cas usually didn't care about getting the answer, but was rather interested in the special. Sam came in every once in a while as well, wondering what was going on and which part they were on. Dean even saw him smile once before he went back into the hallway.

"That young boy is too smart for his age," Cas observed of Linus.

"How so?" Dean implored, not entirely interested.

"He talks like a wise old man, but he is a child," Cas replied as the credits started to role. Dean sat up, looking to see what was on next.

"You want to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas?" Dean asked as Cas gave him a strange look.

"Dean, no one can steal Christmas," Cas insisted, making Dean laugh.

"We are totally watching this," Dean smiled, leaning back into the couch. Cas stared at him for a moment before turning back to the TV.

About halfway through the show, there was a knock at the door. Dean went to go get it, but Sam beat him to it. Dean reclined back as he watched the Grinch steal all the presents and Christmas decorations.

"Can I help you?" Sam asked after opening the door to the four strangers.

"Sam?" the man in the pinstripe suit asked. Sam tilted his head at the man before looking at the others.

"Do I know you?" Sam whispered, confused. The man frowned, almost like he was disappointed.

"Sam, it's me. The Doctor!" the man urged, making Sam laugh.

"Right, because you look just like him," Sam informed before closing the door. The man claiming to be the Doctor held the door open, staring at Sam.

"Sam, it really is me. Who else would know that Dean's been in Hell," the Doctor informed as Sam looked shocked. "Or that you called me after Dean went to Hell, talking about how you were going to get Dean back somehow."

"Doctor?" Sam asked, really confused. The woman rolled her eyes.

"Yes, it's the Doctor? Can we come inside now? I'm freezing my tail off!" she exclaimed before Sam let them in. She muttered a thank you as she came into the living room. Dean glanced up, surprised to see her there, and smiled.

"And who might you be?" Dean asked before the Doctor walked in.

"Stop it," he warned, looking around the place, hardly registering that Dean was there. Dean immediately stood up, staring at him.

"Doctor?" Dean asked as the time lord turned and gave a small smile. "You've changed since I last saw you."

"Yeah, it happens," the Doctor whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. Cas stood up behind Dean, shocked to see the man there.

"You," Cas whispered as the Doctor glanced between the angel and Dean.

"Who's this?" the Doctor whispered as Rose looked up at him.

"This is Cas. He's an angel," Dean answered, thinking that he never would have thought he would ever have to say that.

"Cas? As in Castiel?" the Doctor asked as Dean nodded slowly. "Well, this is a bit awkward."

"What are you doing here?" Castiel demanded as the Doctor sighed.

"Dean invited me," the Doctor answered before Dean looked at him.

"Dean," Cas whispered, upset. "Why would you invite him here?"

"You know him?" Dean asked, confused on what was going on.

"That man is a genocidal maniac, Dean. He has destroyed his entire planet," Cas informed as Dean nodded.

"Yeah, he told me that," Dean answered, still unsure what was going on.

"He's just angry because he planned to let the Daleks take over," the Doctor countered as Dean ignored him, not sure what that even meant.

"We never intended for that!" Cas shouted.

"You didn't stop them! Do you know how many people cried out for your help, Castiel? For the angels' help? You ignored them and decided that they were better off dead!" the Doctor argued.

"As did you," Cas reminded as the Doctor laughed angrily.

"Ah, but I killed off the Daleks, too. Or at least most of them. If I didn't do something, then the entire universe would have burned," the Doctor growled. Dean just sat down again as Sam took the other two visitors to meet Bobby. They had been standing behind the time lord and his companion when the argument broke out.

"We would not have allowed that," Cas informed, making the Doctor laugh.

"Well, I guess we'll never know," the Doctor sneered before Dean told them to stop.

"Can't you two get along for a little bit? It freaking Christmas," Dean reminded as Cas opened and closed his mouth, wanting to tell Dean to stay out of it, but decided that it would end badly for everyone. The Doctor looked away as Rose nodded, silently thanking Dean.

"Why did you want me to come so badly, anyway?" the Doctor asked, looking around. "I thought you were in trouble."

"I never said that," Dean answered, confused. "I wanted to invite you over for Christmas."

"Why? We didn't exactly leave as friends," the Doctor reminded as Dean bit his lip.

"That's why I wanted to invite you over. Spending time in Hell, it makes you remember things. Regret things. Yelling at you and fighting was one of things I most regretted," Dean answered as the Doctor stared at him, unsure how to respond.

"So no monster," the Doctor sighed, his mind running.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I promised Sherlock that he would get to see a monster," the Doctor whispered as Dean looked at him.

"Who?"

"I brought two others along with me. I think Sam took them somewhere," the Doctor added before Dean got up to go to Bobby's office. Reluctantly, the other three followed, hoping that nothing was wrong.

When Dean got there, he found that Sam was introducing Bobby to the Doctor's new companions. Bobby looked up, slightly irritated at Dean, before talking to the shorter of the two visitors. The other began to look around and seemed to be judging everything.

"Dean," Sam whispered, walking over to his brother. "Why did you invite so many people?"

"I didn't. I only invited the Doctor. It seems that the Doctor thought that we were in trouble or something and sent for back up," Dean explained calmly, looking over at the dark haired visitor. "Did these guys tell you who they were?"

"Yeah, the shorter guy, talking to Bobby, is Dr. John Watson, and the man examining everything is Sherlock Holmes," Sam answered as Dean nodded. "They seem normal enough and Bobby and John seem to be getting along."

"Well that's something," Dean whispered. "Apparently, the Doctor and Cas know each other, though."

"That's interesting," Sam replied, surprised by this. "How?"

"Long story. Let's just say that they are not on good terms right now," Dean answered as Sam nodded.

"So who's the fourth person? The woman?" Sam asked, looking over at Rose.

"No idea, but she's hot," Dean smiled as Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be hitting on the Doctor's companion," Sam informed, thinking that approaching her was a horrible idea. There was a small crash as Sherlock pushed something off the shelf. John exhaled as Bobby looked over to make sure that it didn't break.

"She's the Doctor's companion, not girlfriend," Dean countered as Sam pursed his lips.

"Just make sure first," Sam sighed before the Doctor came in. Bobby looked over at Dean before introducing himself.

"I assume that you are the Doctor," Bobby whispered, trying his best to be pleasant.

"Yes, I am," the time lord smiled as Rose came up beside him.

"And I'm Rose Tyler," she informed, shaking Bobby's hand next. Dean smiled over at Sam, who rolled his eyes again. "You have a lovely house."

"Well, I try my best," Bobby answered, looking at the two. "Can I get you anything? Beer? Eggnog? It seems I'm ill prepared for company. Dean just invited you over on a whim."

"Are we intruding?" Rose asked, looking over at Dean. Bobby shook his head.

"Of course not. I wouldn't have let you in if you weren't welcome," Bobby teased, making the other two nervously laugh. "So no on the drinks?"

"We're fine," the Doctor smiled as John asked for a beer. Sam went into the kitchen as Bobby sighed. "So, how long has Dean been out of Hell?"

"Oh, you knew about that? Well, it's only been a couple of months. Sam's still getting used to it. Can't say I'm used to it either," Bobby admitted, leaning against the desk. The Doctor nodded, understanding what he meant. "How do you know the boys, anyway?"

"Stumbled upon them, actually. Nearly killed me when they noticed that I wasn't human," the Doctor smiled as Bobby raised an eyebrow. "I'm a time lord."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bobby asked, knowing that Dean wouldn't bring a demon to the house, but still.

"I'm an alien from the planet Gallifrey," the Doctor replied before Cas appeared next to Bobby, knocking the older man off his equilibrium.

"What he says is true," Cas whispered, glaring at the time lord. Bobby shrugged and sighed.

"Whatever works, I guess," he whispered, looking at the fireplace, not sure if he believed that the man in front of him was an alien. The Doctor smiled as Rose folded her arms. "So, are you going to stay for a while or what?"

"Well," the Doctor began.

"We'd love to," Rose answered, catching the Doctor off guard. Bobby nodded and smiled.

"I have a few spare bedrooms if you need a place to stay," Bobby replied before Sam came back in with a few bottles. "How about you, John? You staying?"

"Seeing that I have no other plans, I would like to," John replied, trying to get Sherlock to stop touching everything. Bobby smiled before wandering upstairs to make sure that the spare rooms were clean.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock looked around as John sat down in the living room, giving up on Sherlock. Bobby was still upstairs, tidying up, as Sam went to talk with the Doctor. It had been a while since he had last talked to the Doctor and he desperately wanted to know who he changed his entire physical form. That's when Dean approached Rose, who was looking through the fridge for something other than alcohol.

"So, you travel with the Doctor now?" he asked as she stood up.

"Yep, have for a little bit," she replied, shutting the door. Dean nodded as she looked at him. "How do you know him? He said that he ran into you a while back."

"Yeah, Sam and I were working on a case last year when he showed up. Nearly killed him, actually. Thought he was a demon or something," Dean answered, shrugging his shoulders. Rose gaped, shocked at his.

"You nearly killed him?" she repeated, flabbergasted.

"He was standing in the middle of the crime scene when Sam and I got there. We figured he was the cause of it," Dean clarified as Rose nodded, knowing that the Doctor usually was too curious for his own good. "How did you meet him?"

"Blew up the shop I was working at. Then an alien kidnapped my old boyfriend. I helped the Doctor save him," Rose answered, looking up at Dean.

"So, you're single then?" Dean asked with a grin. Rose shrugged before looking away.

"More or less," she admitted as Dean nodded, trying to act suave. Cas appeared behind Dean, making Rose jump out of her skin. He turned around quickly and rolled his eyes.

"What is it, Cas?" he asked irritably. Cas glanced at Rose before looking at Dean again.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Cas asked as Dean sighed and Rose wandered away. Dean led Cas farther into the kitchen before turning to him.

"What?" Dean whispered, hoping that this was really important.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to invite the Doctor?" Cas inquired as Dean shrugged.

"Sure. He's not going to hurt anyone, Cas. He's a good man," Dean replied before Cas sighed, unsure.

"That man has killed more than you have Dean, and most were innocent people," Cas reminded as Dean looked down at his hands.

"Cas, I know that man pretty well. He stands for the same things that I do. It will be okay, Cas," Dean reassured, trying to get Cas to see reason. The angel sighed and looked out the window. "Just try to enjoy the holiday, okay? Can you do that?"

"I will… try," Cas replied, deciding to trust Dean. The Hunter grinned and handed Cas some eggnog.

"Perfect," Dean replied with a smile and leaving the kitchen, where Cas stayed to examine the liquid that Dean had given him. Dean wandered back into the living room to find Sherlock looking out the window as John sat on the couch.

"Comfortable?" Dean asked, catching John's attention.

"Very much, thank you," John grinned as Dean sat next to him.

"How you holding up?" Dean continued, opening a bottle. John gave him a curious look. "I mean from the TARDIS. How are you doing?"

"Surviving," John whispered, not really wanting to talk about it.

"Don't worry. I took me about a week to recover from it," Dean sighed before taking a swig. "I was surprised to see you guys here, though. I didn't think the Doctor would have brought friends."

"Well, Sherlock knows him, I don't. Apparently the Doctor promised Sherlock something about monsters," John replied, making Dean laugh. "Right? It's crazy."

"Nah, it's just that I was planning on taking Christmas off this year," Dean whispered as John gave him another look.

"What?" John demanded, confused.

"Sam and I are Hunters, and we hunt monsters and demons," Dean smiled as John shook his head.

"You're mad," he muttered, half laughing. Dean smiled and looked down at his hands. "Really? The Doctor was telling the truth?"

"Afraid so," Dean whispered, turning on the TV to another Christmas special. John bit his lip before looking up at Sherlock, who had been listening in. Of course, he didn't believe a word of it. There was no way that monsters and demons existed in real life. They only existed in people. Soon, Bobby came back down and walked over to Sam. "You don't believe me."

"You have to admit that it sounds outrageous," John pressed, joining Sherlock's side on this one.

"I guess you can believe what you want," Dean shrugged, taking a sip. Soon, Bobby came into the living room and motioned for Dean to come over. He stood up and walked into the hallway. "What is it?"

"I just got off the phone with Ellen," Bobby answered as Dean looked at the phone in his hand.

"Is she okay?" Dean asked, thinking that Ellen didn't usually call to chat. Bobby sighed and shrugged.

"She says that she has a job for you boys, but I told her that I would call her back on it. It sounded pretty urgent," Bobby informed as Dean rolled his eyes, unable to catch a break.

"How urgent? Can it wait for a few days?" Dean asked.

"Well, it's just an hour drive from here. You might be able to figure out what's going on by this evening," Bobby reasoned as Dean but his lip. The Doctor overheard the conversation and wandered over.

"A case?" he wondered, looking between the men. Dean sighed and shrugged.

"I think you might want to go check it out," Bobby argued.

"What's even going on?" Dean asked, giving in a little.

"It seems that there's been some ghost activity down in Sioux City, Iowa. Look, it's probably nothing, but someone came in and asked for someone to fix it," Bobby answered as Dean looked over at Sam.

"What do you think?" Dean asked, knowing that his brother was also listening.

"I think that if we have time, we should go check it out," Sam admitted, trying not to sound too excited about getting out of the holidays. Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

"Fine, but we're coming back home before dinner," Dean informed, upset that he couldn't have his Christmas. Sam gave Bobby a quick smile before the old gruff rolled his eyes. "You guys gonna come with?"

"Us?" John asked, hearing the conversation as well. Sherlock merely nodded and walked over to the Winchesters. Cas appeared behind Dean while The Doctor grabbed Rose's hand enthusiastically.

"Of course. You don't have to come, John, but it seems we're all going," Sherlock replied as John looked at each person, wondering how mad they were.

"Fine," John sighed as he stood up and joined the group. Dean smiled, thinking that his Christmas wasn't ruined after all. Sam stayed behind to count how many people were actually coming before catching up to Dean.

"There's no way we're going to fit all of us in there," Sam informed as Dean shrugged.

"Cas can ride on the top of the car," Dean suggested as the angel and John turned toward him.

"That's not at all a good idea," John informed, wondering if these men were psychopaths.

"I can meet you there," Cas answered as John nodded.

"Come on, Cas," Dean argued as John gaped.

"You are not seriously thinking about this," John hissed, pointing at Cas.

"What if someone saw?" Sam reasoned as Dean nodded, thinking that was a valid point.

"What if he _fell_ off!?" John nearly shouted as Cas gave him a strange look.

"I would be unharmed," Cas informed, taking the question literally as he squinted at John.

"What?" John whispered, thinking that he was paying for something he did to Sherlock a long time ago.

"I am an angel. I would not fall off the car and I would not get hurt," Cas informed as John stared for a moment before throwing his hands up in surrender.

"I'm out," John informed before he walked back over to the Impala. Sam tried to keep from laughing as he turned to Dean.

"I will see you guys there," Cas informed before Dean could protest and vanished. John noticed that Cas disappeared and looked around to see if he ran off somewhere. Dean took a deep breath before he got in the car. Rose was already sitting in the middle of the front seat as the Doctor, Sherlock, and John took up the back. Dean slid in next to her before starting the car. Sam sat in the passenger seat, wondering if it was still legal to have someone sit in the middle in the front. Once Sam closed the door, Dean drove out of the lot onto the road.

~~C~~

About halfway through the trip, John had fallen asleep in the back as Sherlock and the Doctor talked about what had been happening in their busy lives. Rose told Sam and Dean of her adventures with the Doctor.

"You really saw the 2012 London Olympics?" Dean asked with a smile. He would love that much freedom.

"Yep, and the Doctor even helped carry the torch," Rose mentioned as Sam shook his head. He wasn't exactly sure if he believed in time travel, but stranger things had happened.

"That must have been quite a sight to see," Dean mentioned as Rose shrugged.

"It would have been better if there wasn't an alien kidnapping people through drawings," Rose added with a sigh. Dean glanced over at her, thinking that she was rather adaptive.

"Really?" Sam asked, disbelieving. Rose simply nodded and didn't say much else.

"Seems like you and the Doctor have a good time," Dean mentioned as Rose nodded.

"It's fantastic. I love traveling to far off worlds and times with him," Rose smiled, making Dean grin. "What about you? Any adventures?"

"Too many for my taste," Dean sighed, sudden visions of Hell filling his head. Sam bit his lip, still unsure if Dean remembered anything from Hell. Rose just nodded as Sam started to talk about interesting cases that they've worked, like the Ghostfacers and meeting Cas for the first time.

"Seems like you guys get your own sense of adventure," Rose smiled, looking out on the road. "So, we're investigating ghost activity? I thought there was no such thing as ghosts."

"There are," Sam assured as Rose shook her head.

"I mean, we had a ghost encounter once, but it turned out to be aliens made out of gas," Rose mentioned as Sam gave her a strange look.

"And that's more feasible that real ghosts?" Sam asked before she shrugged.

"Honestly, I didn't believe in aliens until I met the Doctor," She reminded as Sam nodded.

"True," he admitted.

"I just never gave it much thought, I guess. Wasn't ever on my mind," Rose added, trying not to sound like a skeptic. She liked to keep her mind open to new possibilities and ideas. This was definitely a new idea. "So you two just hunt ghosts for a living? Like the Ghostbusters?"

"No, not like that. We also hunt demons and monsters, and we don't get paid to do it," Sam answered as Rose looked at him.

"Then how do you make a living?" she asked, skipping the part about the demons and the monsters.

"Pool hustling and gambling, mostly. Sam and I are quite the con artists," Dean spoke up, pulling himself from his nightmares. Rose paled at the sound of that and shook her head.

"You guys are something else," she whispered, unable to fathom their life style.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, this week is the last week of the semester and next week is finals week. Lucky me… Anyway, that's why I haven't been updating much lately. After the semester is over, I will be able to write more. Maybe I'll even finish this story by Christmas. And thank you for all the wonderful reviews! You all have made my day so much brighter! Love you all!**

Soon, they finally made it to the town, but it was unnerving to see it so empty. Rose looked around through the windows, very confused on why everything was closed and vacant.

"Why is everything closed?" she asked, turning to Sam, who gave her an odd look.

"It's Christmas Eve," he reminded as she shook her head.

"So?" she whispered before the Doctor popped his head between hers and Sam's.

"In America, Christmas is a huge family holiday. Most things are closed on Christmas. Except Walmart. I think they're always open," the Doctor remarked as Rose smiled, thinking that was the most ridiculous things.

"Yes, but Christmas is tomorrow," Rose added as the Doctor sighed, looking around.

"True. I can't really say I've been to America over Christmas, so this is a bit new to me as well," the Doctor mentioned, noticing how not all the stores were privately owned.

"It is odd. I wonder if the ghost story got out and spooked all the people," Dean suggested as Sam shrugged.

"People usually don't panic over ghost activity," Sam reminded as his brother shrugged.

"Usually," Dean pointed out as Sam rolled his eyes. "Maybe we haven't gotten far enough into town. It kinda looks run down."

"Maybe," Sam sighed, staring out the window. The Doctor leaned back and turned to Sherlock, who looked extremely bored. He had pictured hunting _monsters_ with a little more excitement and panic. Not like a drive into town. Sherlock heard the Doctor sigh and grew more irritated.

"This is mind numbing," Sherlock informed the Doctor as the time lord shrugged.

"Not everything you do is going to be the most exciting moment of your life. Give it some time," the Doctor answered, basically telling Sherlock to be patient.

"I'm sure we'll see some action soon," John whispered, gazing out the window at the shops. They looked run down, but at least they didn't look abandoned. There were still wreaths and garland on doors and windows. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the people. Suddenly, a person turned the corner as John straightened, noticing something off by this person. He looked like he had just come out of the movie _Miracle on 34__th__ Street_ with his bowler hat and decorative cane. The man was dapperly dressed and stood there like he was waiting for someone to show up and meet him.

"Doctor," John whispered, tapping the Doctor's arm, not daring to take his eye off the man. The Doctor looked over, also seeing the man, and took a deep breath.

"Dean," the time lord whispered as they passed the man. "Dean, you need to pull over right now."

"What? What is it?" he asked, looking in the rear view mirror.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as Dean looked forward again. For a split second, there was a young woman in a bonnet and a bustle, walking across the street. Then they hit her. Or should have hit her. As they drove, the woman seemed to dissipate through them. Dean slammed on the brakes, but it was already too late.

"Is everyone alright?" Dean asked before Rose fixed her toppled hair.

"Don't you have seatbelts in this thing?!" John shouted angrily as Dean sighed.

"Good," Dean whispered before pulling to the side of the road. Sherlock gave the Doctor an eager look, ready to debunk the activity. Dean and Sam got out of the car immediately and went for the trunk. Rose quickly followed, loving the excitement and adventure. Sherlock also opened the door quickly, wanting to figure out just what was going on.

Rose watched as Dean popped the trunk to reveal the arsenal that the Winchesters had. She looked up at them before back at the weapons.

"You really need all this?" she whispered, knowing that the Doctor hated guns.

"Yep," Sam answered, pulling out a shotgun. Rose flinched as Dean smiled.

"Don't worry. They're filled with rock salt rounds," Dean reassured as Rose shook her head.

"What good does that do?" Rose demanded, confused.

"Salt repels ghosts, and bullets don't hurt them. This is the best of both worlds," Dean clarified as she nodded. John wandered over to the back of the car before walking off again, knowing that he didn't want to know what all was in there. The Doctor also kept his distance, hating that the Winchesters were always armed to the teeth.

Soon, Sam and Dean were armed enough and Sam grabbed an extra gun. He walked over to John and handed him the handgun. John stared at it before looking at Sam.

"What's that?" he whispered.

"It's a salt gun. It will repel ghosts," Sam informed, holding out the gun.

"Why would I want that? Aren't you two the ghost hunters?" John asked, slightly mocking them. Sam kept a straight face.

"It's always helpful to have another watch our backs. Look, it's either you or Sherlock, and I have a feeling that you are going to be more conservative with the ammo," Sam informed, looking over at the detective, who was lying on the street where the woman was, trying to find a projector of some kind. John sighed before taking the gun.

"Just because the alternative isn't any better," John whispered as Sam nodded. "So, these things are real?"

"Yep. They're souls you refuse to move on," Sam answered before John nodded.

"Don't I get a gun or something?" Rose asked, standing behind Sam.

"No, I don't think the Doctor would approve of me giving you a firearm," Sam answered, looking over at the Doctor, who was watching Rose to make sure that she was safe. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I don't care. I feel useless," Rose complained as Sam exhaled.

"Iron works just as well. I think we iron rod or something in the back," Sam negotiated, making her smile at her victory. The Doctor turned around to make sure that Sherlock didn't get run over by whatever would come by.

"Doctor," Sherlock whispered after finding no projectors or hologram machines. The time lord walked over to him as Sherlock sat up. "You don't believe in ghosts, do you?"

"I've never actually seen one, but I think that they might exist," the Doctor replied, looking down the street. Sherlock nodded slightly, bewildered.

"If they do exist, this is going to change my entire outlook on life," Sherlock mentioned as the Doctor shrugged.

"Sometimes that happens," the Doctor answered, not really understanding the problem with finding a new outlook on life was. Sherlock shook his head, almost distressed.

"You don't understand, Doctor. I believe that there is no afterlife. Once you die, you're gone. Forever," Sherlock informed before looking up at the Doctor. He smiled and lent a hand to help the detective up.

"And isn't that a lonely way to live? And maybe your belief is still true. It just depends on how you look at ghosts. Are they really souls? Or are they past images of what once was?" the Doctor asked as Sherlock grinned, feeling a little bit better. "And even if they are souls, that means that you have one, too."

"I wouldn't go that far," Sherlock chuckled as the Doctor smiled.

"So, are you going to help Sam and Dean find out what's going on in this town?"

"I don't see why not," Sherlock replied, placing his hands behind his back.

"Good to hear," the Doctor smiled as the Winchesters came over with Rose and John. "What's the plan?"

"We need to find Cas first. He said that he was going to meet us here, but I'm not sure where he is," Dean replied as the Doctor nodded.

"And when we find him?" Sherlock added.

"Then we split up and see if we can find any living people and start asking questions. A town like this doesn't just become a ghost town overnight," Sam answered.

"Shouldn't Cas just know where you are?" the Doctor asked, knowing how angels are able to hone in and find a soul.

"Cas angel proofed us a few weeks ago, protecting us from even his sight," Dean answered as the Doctor tilted his head to the side.

"Why would you need that?" the time lord whispered as Dean gave him a stern look.

"Another time," Dean whispered, holding back the story. The Doctor nodded and pursed his lips. Even Rose was curious to know what that meant.

"How do we find him, then?" John spoke up as Dean shrugged.

"He has a phone," Sam informed as Rose started to laugh.

"An angel of the lord has a cell?" she smiled as Dean shrugged, glad that she was able to find some humor in the situation.

"Does he even know we're here?" Sherlock asked, wanting to do something productive.

"No idea, but until he shows up, we're going to stay put," Sam answered, hoping that Sherlock could sit still for a few more minutes. The Doctor folded his arms.

"If this does turns out to be ghosts, how are we going to deal with them?" John implored, confused on what they were supposed to do.

"Burn the remains usually works, but we're going to need more information before we go burning bones," Dean answered, thinking that burning the town was out of the question. John just slowly nodded, still confused on how to ghost hunt.

"And what if there are no remains?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes.

"There are remains. A ghost can't stay here unless there is a thing that they can hold on to," Dean replied, turning toward the detective. Sherlock gave a nod before looking at a shop. Dean sighed and turned toward Sam, but found Cas instead. "Where the hell have you been?!"

"Investigating. This is no regular haunting," Cas informed as Dean rolled his eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Dean retorted before turning to a confused Sherlock across from him. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Sherlock answered, confused by the saying.

"Anyway, do you know what caused this?" Dean asked as Cas shrugged.

"I am thinking either a very powerful demon or an angel," Cas answered as Dean nodded, tired of hearing about demons and angels.

"Why can't it ever be a normal haunting anymore?" Dean complained as John bit his lip, thinking that was a strange thing to wish for. "Can you find out which it is? And if it's a demon, don't kill it. We need to know how to get this town back to normal before we get rid of it."

"I will see what I can do," Cas whispered before vanishing again. Dean took a deep breath before turning to the rest of the group.

"Let's go find the townspeople."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean led Cas and Rose to the east side of town as the Doctor and Sherlock checked the west side. Sam and John stayed at the Impala in case someone had heard the motor and wanted to check it out. Dean had been hesitant of not grouping up with his brother, but Rose was a good trade off. They walked from house to house, looking inside each one, but every house was completely empty.

"I thought this was supposed to be a town," Rose whispered, still holding the iron rod that Sam had given her. Dean looked back at Cas before sighing.

"It's supposed to be," Dean whispered as he tried the door. Unlike the others, this house was unlocked. He glanced back at his companions before venturing into the house. Cas immediately followed, but Rose was hesitant. She wasn't used to just waltzing into people's homes.

Inside, they found a Christmas wonderland, similar to the one that Cas had put up at Bobby's. However, this one was different, as everything looked like it was from a hundred years ago. Dean walked in, marveling at the place. It was like he had stepped into a museum, but everything look brand new.

"What's going on?" Rose whispered as Dean shook his head, having no idea.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Dean muttered, looking back at Cas again, hoping he had an explanation.

"This house does not fee normal. As it should not be here," Cas informed as Dean rolled his eyes.

"I got that."

"No, Dean, it does not belong here. In this time. There is something very wrong," Cas urged, glancing around. Dean sighed, wondering if the place was dangerous.

"Not in this time? Like someone brought this house back from the past?" Rose whispered, thinking that this was just up her alley.

"That is a definite possibility," Cas whispered, thinking that they should go find the others. Dean took a deep breath, never really thinking that time travel did exist, even if the Doctor said that it did.

"Great," Dean muttered under his breath before turning around again to look at the relics.

"Should we go find the others? The Doctor might know what's going on," Rose spoke up, twirling the rod around. Dean glanced behind his shoulder towards her. "He is over nine hundred years old."

"That does not mean he knows what he's doing or what's going on half the time," Dean argued, wanting to know what was going on before dragging everyone else into it.

"Well, maybe they have figured it out," Rose suggested, her voice growing more intense. Dean fought a grin before nodding.

"Fine, let's go see what they have," he agreed before walking out the house. Cas watched him carefully before following, ignoring Rose all together. She raised her eyebrows and gave a short laugh before leaving the house.

~~C~~

Sherlock walked with the Doctor around the neighborhood, finding nothing out of the ordinary. There was no sign of panic or struggle. If there were any people, they didn't know what was coming and whatever was here was quick enough so there were no rumors to stir up panic. The Doctor looked into houses and found nothing wrong, for the most part.

"What are we looking for?" Sherlock whispered, fearing the silence.

"Anything that doesn't fit," the Doctor sighed, unsure what they were really doing.

"The only thing that seems wrong here is the lack of people," Sherlock groaned, putting his hands behind his back. The Doctor sighed, wishing that Sherlock was just a bit more patient. "It's obvious that the people left because of something, and since we haven't had the urge to leave, I suggest that it isn't here anymore. Unless, of course, they left out of boredom."

"Towns of people do not leave out of boredom," the Doctor argued as he looked through another window.

"That's because you never get bored," Sherlock sighed as he stood behind the Doctor. When the time lord didn't say anything, he took a step closer. "Doctor?"

"Sherlly, look," he whispered as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Don't call me that."

"Just look!" The Doctor nearly shouted before Sherlock peered through the window. He hadn't looked through the other houses' windows, so he was immensely surprised to find what was inside. It was like he had stepped back in time, to the turn of the century a hundred years ago. He saw brand new lace doilies with a very elaborate tablecloth. He almost expected a woman to come around the corner in a long dress and apron, carrying a pan of gingerbread cookies. Sherlock looked back at the Doctor, mortified. "That doesn't seem to fit."

"No it does not," Sherlock whispered after swallowing.

"Is it at all possible that this house just really liked antiques?" the Doctor asked as Sherlock seemed confused.

"How should I know?"

"You're the only one that could know just from looking," the Doctor answered, making Sherlock smile.

"As much I would love to say that was the reason, I find no wearing on the dishes or housewares. It looks like they are new, or, at least, relatively new. As if it came from the early twentieth century," Sherlock informed quickly as the Doctor took a deep breath.

"I was afraid of that," he whispered, walking back to the road. Sherlock followed.

"You know what happened."

"Well, I think I know, and I don't like what I'm thinking," the Doctor sighed as they walked back to the car, where John and Sam were. Sherlock nodded once, knowing that he wasn't going to say another word about it until he knew more.

"What about Dean and Rose?" Sherlock muttered, excluding Cas simply because he still had no proof that angels exist.

"They will soon figure it out and meet us back at the car. There isn't much else they can do," the Doctor reasoned.

"Are we facing something dangerous?" Sherlock wondered as the Doctor sighed and shrugged.

"Could be. Frankly, if it's what I'm thinking, I definitely is or isn't. It just depends on the mood it's in," the Doctor mumbled sharply. Sherlock smiled and shook his head.

"It's been a long time since I've faced something like that."

"Please don't antagonize it, Sherlock. I do not want this thing breathing down my neck," the Doctor pleaded, throwing his head back for dramatic effect. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You seem to think that I'm going to punch the creature when I first see it, and I can assure you, I won't," Sherlock informed firmly as the Doctor nodded.

"Good to hear," the time lord whispered as they turned to corner to the next street.

"You're not going to tell me what it is?"

"Not yet. Some people on our little caravan would not be excited to hear my theory," the Doctor answered cryptically as Sherlock sighed.

"I assure you-"

"It's not just you, I promise. I just want evidence before I suggest what it is," the Doctor interrupted smoothly.

"What do you think would happen?" Sherlock whispered, desperate to get information.

"The worst case scenario? Castiel stabs me during regeneration," the time lord answered, understanding that this was the absolute worst outcome. Sherlock stared at him, wondering what could be so terrible that their ally would turn on them. "Of course, I'm positive that won't happen, but I can't see him being entirely thrilled with me, either."

"Why can't you tell me?" Sherlock asked, confused. Surely the Doctor didn't think that he would kill him.

"You would not believe me, for one," the Doctor answered before giving a smile. Sherlock shrugged, thinking that as a definite possibility. "Are we done with the interrogation now?"

"That was not an interrogation. That was me just looking for answers," Sherlock informed.

"Did you get any?"

"Not in the slightest."

Soon, Sherlock and the Doctor reached the car, where Sam and John had been standing guard. However, when they heard them approach, Sam and John pointed their weapons at them and held them there. The Doctor grimaced as he froze and put his hands in the air. Sherlock just stared at John whilst standing next to the time lord. Sam slowly approached them with an iron rod and tapping them each a few times.

"They're real," Sam informed as John put down the handgun.

"What's going on?" the Doctor asked as Sam took a deep breath.

"I don't think that these are ghosts. John and I have seen you two come back and attack us twice now. Dean, Cas, and Rose also showed up and nearly tore our throats out," Sam informed as Sherlock tilted his head.

"We haven't come back," Sherlock informed.

"What he means is that we've seen doppelgangers. Things that looked like you, but not. Yet, they're still vulnerable to salt and iron," John quickly explained, catching on quick. Sherlock nodded slowly before glancing at the Doctor, who was growing uncomfortable.

"I see," Sherlock whispered. "So I assume the real Dean and Rose haven't come back either?"

"Nope, and neither has Cas. Just replicas. What did you find?" Sam implored as the Doctor inhaled.

"Well, there's a perfectly intact early nineteen hundreds style house up the road with similar ones all around," the Doctor informed as Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Like an antique shop?" Sam guessed.

"No, like someone had taken a house straight from that time period and plopped it in the middle of twenty first century South Dakota," the Doctor explained as Sam shook his head.

"I have no idea what that means," Sam whispered, looking at the time lord for answers.

"I have a theory, but I think it's a good idea to wait until I have more proof," the Doctor answered as the other three appeared around the corner. Sam and John raised their weapons once again as they neared.

"Sam?" Dean whispered, not stopping. Sam didn't move nor flinch as they came closer. The Doctor urged him to put the gun down, but Sam ignored him and shot his brother in the leg. As the Doctor called out, outraged, Rose and Cas started to snarl and run at them angrily. Sherlock stared, bewildered at the sight as Sam and John shot at the things. The Doctor watched as they vanished into a mist before completely disappearing. Sam lowered the shotgun and turned toward them again.

"You were saying?" Sam whispered, pain in his eyes. The Doctor guessed how long it took him to shoot at his brother's doppelganger before John had to step in. The time lord cleared his throat and looked away.

"Let's just wait until your real brother and friends get back," the Doctor suggested as Sam nodded. "So, you've been doing this for the last twenty minutes?"

"Twenty minutes? You guys have been gone for almost an hour," Sam answered as the Doctor shook his head. His inner clock told him that they had been gone exactly twenty one minutes and thirty two and a half seconds.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, also seeing it as odd.

"Look at the clock," Sam replied softly as the Doctor ran to the car. According to the car, they had definitely been gone for an hour. The Doctor looked back up and around.

"How's your theory now, Doctor?" Sherlock asked, almost sarcastically.

"Growing stronger," the time lord whispered before he left to go find Rose and the others.


	7. Chapter 7

As Sam and John stayed behind with the car, the Doctor and Sherlock went out to look for Rose and the others. The Doctor was worried about being separated from Sam and John, as they had already been through so much, but he cared about Rose more.

As they turned the corner, The Doctor saw Rose and began running to her while calling her name. Sherlock kept pace with the Doctor as Cas and Dean came into view as well. Dean stopped, hearing the Doctor. As they neared, the Doctor enveloped Rose, confusing her.

"It's nice to see you again, too," she laughed uneasily, wondering what had happened.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes. He knew the Doctor pretty well, and he could tell when the time lord was shaken up.

"It seems we have an illusionary problem. Sam and John have seen apparitions of us, but they seem to be out for blood," Sherlock informed as Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Are they okay?" Dean implored as Sherlock nodded.

"They are fine, but I think we need to find out what's going on before we lose someone," Sherlock suggested as Dean nodded.

"We need to get back to the impala now," Dean agreed as he started toward the street where Sam was. Cas quickly followed, wondering what exactly was going on. Rose only glanced at the Doctor before he dragged her along as well, with Sherlock close behind.

As they came back toward the impala, Sam and John pointed their weapons toward them, which caught dean by surprise. All of them carefully put their hands up, except for Cas, as Sam couldn't hurt him with a salt gun.

"Stay where you are!" Sam shouted before slowly approaching with an iron rod. Dean put his arms down, but stood where he was.

"Is this really necessary? If we weren't us, wouldn't have we attacked by now?" Dean suggested.

"You're the third one to tell me that today," Sam shrugged before tapping him with iron. Dean sighed as Sam tapped the others, making sure that they were all themselves. "Okay, we're clear!"

"Thank God!" John whispered, lowering his gun. "What did you guys find?"

"Really old houses in the new," Dean summed up as the Doctor nodded.

"That's what we found as well," Sherlock added as Dean ran a hand through his hair.

"What does that even mean?" Rose asked the Doctor, wanting to know why the houses were here. He bit his lip and looked at her without an answer.

"Doctor, you have a theory?" Sherlock prompted, needing an answer. The Doctor took a deep breath, thinking that now was good of a time as ever.

"I think we're dealing with a trickster," the Doctor announced as John blinked a few times, wondering what that could possibly mean. Dean and Sam shared irritated expressions as Rose gave the Doctor a curious look.

"With a what?" Sherlock implored, surprised.

"Trickster. As the Winchesters probably know, it's a creature that can create alternate realities," the Doctor explained as Dean nodded.

"We dealt with one twice a few years ago," Dean informed.

"It made relive Dean's death for over a hundred Tuesdays," Sam groaned, hating to think about it.

"Over a hundred Tuesdays?" John whispered, shocked at this. Sam only nodded, not wanting to talk about it.

"So you think we're dealing with a trickster?" Dean interrogated the Doctor.

"Yes. There is no residual time energy from these houses, so they're either elaborate illusions or someone built these. Although, I cannot imagine someone building these and abandoning them like this," the Doctor reasoned as Sam took a deep breath.

"Do we have any lamb's blood?" Sam whispered over to Dean as Rose gave him a look.

"What do you need that for?" she exclaimed.

"You need to cover a stake with it to kill it," Dean answered before turning back to Sam. "We don't. We used the last of it."

"Dammit," Sam grumbled under his breath.

"Dean?" Cas whispered before Dean turned around.

"What is-" Dean began before he saw the Trickster behind Cas, closing his eyes. "You get away from Cas right now!"

"I don't think that's a good idea," the Trickster admitted as Sam started towards him. "Ah ah ah. I still have your angel friend."

"This is the Trickster?" Sherlock demanded with a laugh. "He looks more like a Christmas elf!"

"Oi! Just because I'm short doesn't mean I can't wreak havoc!" The Trickster shouted, offended. Dean gave Sherlock a pleading look before Sherlock looked away, knowing when he needed to stop.

"What do you want?" Sam demanded, annoyed. "And were you the ones that set those ghosts one us?"

"Just to have some fun, and the ghosts were there to catch your attention. I hear you don't like Christmas, Sammy," the Trickster informed as Sam grew pale. Dean sighed, already knowing that. "Mind if I change that?"

"Even if I didn't care, what could you do to change my mind?" Sam argued, wondering how he knew that.

"Persuasion," the Trickster answered as the Doctor stared him down. The Trickster glanced over at him and winked, making the Doctor upset. "You go through with what I have in mind and I'll let your angel go."

"What?" John asked, wondering why he wanted Sam to like Christmas so badly.

"You go through my game and no one gets hurt. Look, I just want to have some fun, and maybe a little payback for embarrassing me last time we met," the Trickster answered as Sam rolled his eyes.

"I don't remember it going down like that," Sam hissed as it laughed.

"Of course you don't. Look, do we have a deal or not? 'Cause, it just so happens, I have an angel blade," the Trickster informed as Sherlock laughed again.

"No you don't," Sherlock whispered as the Trickster glared at him.

"Even if I didn't, I know where to find one. Besides, there's one in this lovely pocket," the Trickster answered, glancing down at the trench coat Cas was wearing.

"Cas," Dean grumbled, needing some advice.

"I really don't see a nice alternative here," Cas admitted before Dean began cussing under his breath. He looked over at Sam and John, who looked irritated, but knew that they had their hands tied. The Doctor looked like he was going to kill someone and Rose looked over all confused. Sherlock seemed to be taking the situation well, interested to see the outcome.

"Fine," Dean caved as the Trickster laughed. Just as he removed his hands, a blindfold appeared over Cas's eyes.

"You peek, angel, and I'll kill your boyfriend," the Trickster warned before Dean rolled his eyes. The Trickster held out his hand as Dean reluctantly shook it. "Perfect."

"Now when does this persuasion begin?" Dean asked as it smiled broadly.

"Right now. You better hold on," the Trickster whispered before a mist started to form around them. Sherlock unfolded his arms as he looked around, noticing their surroundings change subtly. John held up the gun again, not sure what to do. Sam just stared at Dean as he began to panic. The Doctor held Rose's hand as she coughed.

"What's going on!?" Dean demanded, turning toward the Trickster, who just laughed.

"You didn't think I would do this the conventional way, did you?" it laughed before he disappeared into the fog. Dean cursed before turning to Sam, who was dressed to the nines in mid nineteenth century clothing. He looked down at himself and found very different clothing. It was that of a woman's, but from the same time period. He grew upset and faced the sky.

"Do you think this is funny!?" Dean shouted as laughter replied, making him angry. Cas's blindfold faded as his clothes formed and changed. He looked similar to Sam, but it was dingy and ripped to rags.

"What's going on?" Sam whispered as he turned to find that the others had been lost in the mist. When he turned back, Dean was missing without another word and he was just standing here with Cas. "Can't you do something?"

"It seems that my powers are useless for whatever reason," Cas answered before Sam cursed. The fog began to disappear and the found themselves at a strange little counting house. Sam felt a force pull him into a chair at one end of the room, where there were huge piles of money everywhere. Cas, however, was pulled to the other side of the room, where it was dark, cold, and damp. He sat at a small desk with lots of papers and a quill.

"What?" Sam whispered, looking at Cas as the fog completely cleared. Soon, the Trickster's voice came through loud and clear, but neither were exactly sure from where.

"Holmes was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatsoever about that," it began as Sam grew angry.

"What?!" Sam shouted as Cas looked around the counting house. However, the voice continued.

"The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Winchester signed it. And Winchester's name was considered good for any piece of business he chose to put his hand to. Holmes was as dead as a doornail. Now, I don't know what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I would think a coffin nail would be a deader piece of iron; but, far be it from me to change the expression, or the country's done for. So, permit me to repeat, once again, emphatically, that Holmes was dead as a doornail."

"Oh, God," Sam whispered, growing pale. Cas turned to him.

"What?" Cas asked before the voice continued.

"Winchester knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Winchester and he had been partners for I don't know how many years. Winchester was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole friend, and the only man who mourned him...if Winchester can be said to have mourned at all. And the mention of Holmes's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Holmes was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate."

"The Trickster has pulled us into a messed up version of the Christmas Carol," Sam sighed before Cas nodded, actually knowing the book it originated from.

"Winchester never painted out old Holmes's name. There it stood, years afterward, above the warehouse door: Winchester and Holmes. The firm was known as Winchester and Holmes. Sometimes people new to the business called Winchester 'Winchester', and sometimes Holmes, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him.

It was bitterly cold and the fog was thick as pea soup on that Christmas Eve of 1843, when Winchester sat busy in his counting house, with his clerk near by trying to warm himself at a candle. But since he didn't have much of an imagination, he failed," the voice finished as Sam stared at Cas.

"We're in bigger trouble than we thought," Sam grumbled before someone came at the door.


	8. Chapter 8

"Um, a Merry Christmas, Uncle?" John Watson said as he opened the door carefully, holding a wreath. Cas looked up, really confused as well.

"What?" Sam whispered, surprised and bewildered. John shrugged, pointing to his wrists, where there were lines. Sam looked at his wrist and found some there, too.

"I said, A Merry Christmas, Uncle? God save you," John repeated, never acted before in his life. Sam glanced at his wrists as he eyebrows shot up.

"Bah, humbug," Sam answered before glancing up.

"Christmas a humbug, Uncle? Surely you don't mean that!" John replied, thinking that this was the most ridiculous thing in his life. Sam squinted at his wrist as Cas went to check his own.

"Of course I mean it! Merry Christmas, indeed. What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough," Sam replied poorly. "Where is everyone?"

"No idea," John hissed before looking at his arm again. "Come, Uncle. What reason have you to be dismal? You're rich enough. Ha ha!"

"BAH! Away with Merry Christmas! What's Christmas to you, but a, um, time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer? If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips should be ,ah, boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!" Sam read off, wondering how such a long line could fit on his wrist.

"Uncle!" John shouted emotionlessly.

"Nephew!" Sam warned deeply, but flatly. "Keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

"Keep it! But you don't keep it," John read before looking up at Sam, hoping that this charade would end soon. Sam sighed and looked down again.

"Let me leave it alone, then! A lot of good it has done you- Okay, I am not this bad with Christmas!" Sam shouted to the ceiling. Suddenly, things started to fly off the shelves toward them. "Okay! Okay! I'll go along with it! John, keep reading!"

"Well, there are many things from which I have benefited, even if they didn't show a profit, I dare say. Christmas among the rest. But if anything belonging to Christmas can be considered apart from the sacred source of its name and origin, I am sure I have always thought of Christmas as a good time, a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time of year I know of when men and women- god this is a long line -seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and think of others as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave. And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of silver or gold in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!" John finished before taking a deep breath. Sam was about to applaud him, but then thought better of it. However, Cas started to applaud slowly.

"Cas?" Sam whispered.

"My wrist told me to clap," Cas answered as Sam nodded and looked at his own wrist.

"Another sound out of you, and you'll keep your Christmas by losing your position!" Sam bellowed at Cas, who looked confused before looking back at the papers.

"Don't be angry, Uncle. Come and dine with us tomorrow," John suggested, getting the hang of it.

"I'll see myself in hell first," Sam grumbled before glaring at John.

"But…but why, Uncle?" John whispered, afraid of that look.

"Why? Why? Let me ask you a question: Why did you get married recently?" Sam asked without any tone in his voice.

"Because… because I fell in love, of course," John answered firmly after clearing his throat.

"Love! You fell in love! Ha! Good afternoon, nephew," Sam replied before mouthing an apology to poor John, who just shrugged.

"But you never came to see me before I married. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?" John continued as Cas looked up again, intrigued by the interaction.

"Good afternoon," Sam repeated, realizing that he was sending his friend away. John looked down at his wrist before looking up.

"I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you. Why can't we be friends?" John whispered as Sam swallowed and looked at the desk, irritated.

"Good afternoon," Sam answered once more, but with more sorrow than anger.

"I am sorry to find you so resolute. We've never had a quarrel, you and I. But I came all this way to give you greetings of the season, and I'll keep my Christmas humor to the last. So, a Merry Christmas, Uncle!" John informed, lingering a moment before a book fell off the shelf, and he hurried off.

"Good afternoon!" Sam scoffed before John poked his head back in.

"And a Happy New Year!" John exclaimed before leaving once more.

"Good afternoon!" Sam laughed before John came back once more.

"And a Merry Christmas to you, Cas Norvak!" John added as Cas looked at him and then at his wrist.

"Thank you, sir! A Merry Christmas to you!" Cas whispered blandly as he read his wrist as well. John hurried off again, hoping not to get into trouble. Sam looked at his arm and sighed

"There's another fellow, my clerk, with fifteen shilling a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam," Sam informed as Cas nodded. Soon, there was another knock on the door and Sam called them in. Two gentlemen entered, one rather thin and one rather not. Sam straightened, having no idea who these people were.

"Winchester and Holmes's, I believe? Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Winchester or Mr. Holmes?" The fat man began as Sam glanced down and swallowed.

"Holmes's dead. In fact, he died seven years ago this very night," Sam answered firmly as the gentlemen drooped.

"Oh, I am quite sorry to hear it. But I have no doubt his generosity is well represented by his surviving partner," he continued as Sam raised an eyebrow.

"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Winchester, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and needy, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of basic needs; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, Sir," the thin man added as Sam glanced down once more, hating his character.

"Are there no prisons? Did they disappear?" Sam asked bitterly, looking above their heads.

"Oh, no, sir. There are still plenty of prisons," the thin man answered. Sam took a deep breath, regretting every word.

"And the workhouses for the poor? Still in operation, I assume?" Sam implored softly.

"They are. Still, I wish I could say they were not," the other gentlemen replied.

"The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigor, then?" Sam whispered, wanting this to end. Cas glanced up at him and frowned.

"Yes, very busy, sir," the thin one responded as Sam sighed.

"Oh, well, I was afraid from what you had said that something had stopped them in their useful course. I'm glad to hear it," Sam replied soullessly as the gentlemen exchanged looks.

"Given that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer to the multitude, a few of us are trying to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and some means of warmth. We choose this time because it is a time, above all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?" The thin one asked as Sam closed his eyes, wanting to storm out of the counting house.

"Nothing," Sam replied as the men gave him a curious look.

"Ah! You wish to be anonymous, then?" the large man asked, hoping that Sam was just giving him a hard time. Sam shook his head and held his breath for a moment.

"I-I wish to be left alone. I don't make merry myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I am taxed for the institutions I have mentioned, and they cost enough. Those who are badly off must go there," Sam muttered bitterly, very upset that he was forced to recite this at the expense of his friends' lives.

"But many can't go there; and many would rather die," the thin man mumbled, shocked by what he was hearing.

"Oh, well, if they'd rather die, perhaps they should go ahead and do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides, I wouldn't know anything about it," Sam informed in a monotone voice.

"Well, you could know it, sir," he continued as Sam shook his head, wanting them to leave.

"It's none of my business. I have too much of my own business to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly, and I'll thank you to leave me to it! Good afternoon, gentlemen!" Sam answered coldly before they left, leaving him with Cas. Cas looked at the door for a while before looking back at Sam. Sam looked down at his arms as a caroling boy sang outside. Sam reluctantly grabbed a ruler and opened the door. "Get away from here, you. I-I didn't ask to be bothered with that noise!"

"Sam?" Cas whispered, walking over to his desk. Sam covered his face in his hands before reciting his wrists again.

"You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?" Sam sighed, wondering when it was time to send Cas away as well. Cas looked down at his wrist and squinted at it.

"If it is quite convenient, sir," Cas replied as Sam took a deep breath, wanting his friend to stay with him.

"It's not convenient. And it's not fair. If I was to hold back half a crown or it, you'd think you were being abused, no doubt. And yet you don't think me ill used, when I pay a day's wages for no work," Sam replied dismally as Cas gave him a sad look.

"It is only once a year, sir," Cas reminded after glancing at his arm. Sam smiled up at him and sighed.

"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December. But I suppose you must have it. Be here all the earlier next morning," Sam replied as Cas nodded.

"Oh, yes, sir, I shall. I certainly shall," Cas replied, surprised at himself. He had no idea that he would be able to do this. Cas then took his leave, grabbed a dirty coat by the door and left Sam in the cold, dark counting room by himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Cas wandered the streets of London, not exactly sure where to go. He had only heard this tale once when one of his brothers mentioned it years ago. As he walked, he heard a little boy's voice. Cas turned around to see a small child limping along with a tiny crutch.

"Father!" he called out as Cas's arm burned from the lines on his wrist. He glanced down and found out that this was his son, somehow.

"Hello, my dear son," Cas replied, rather confused. The little boy looked up at him before Cas picked him up and carried him, since Cas thought he shouldn't walk more than he needed to. He looked at the writing as it said Tiny Tim.

"Father, I have been waiting for you!" Tim informed sweetly, making Cas smile.

"Let's go by Corn Hill, and watch the children play. Someday you will be there, too, playing with them," Cas answered, using his nifty cheat sheet.

"I feel that I'm getting stronger every day," Tim exclaimed as Cas forced a smile. He remembered now who this child was his terrible fate.

"And do you remember what tomorrow is?" Cas whispered, exciting the child.

"Christmas Day!"

"And I am to have the whole day off to celebrate with my family," Cas informed, surprised. Who was his family? Would he find more people again? Tim then threw his hands into the air and grinned.

"Hoorah for Christmas!"

~~C~~

Sam had gone back to his home, which he was thankful that he had found. For some reason, he knew where it would be and he climbed up the steps as the Trickster's voice came back again.

"Oh, Winchester—he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, he was. A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner, to be sure! Secret, self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. He carried his own low temperature with him everywhere he went; he iced his office in the dog-days, and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas," it explained as Sam sighed, letting it happen of now. "Winchester always took his melancholy dinner in the same melancholy tavern, and this night was no different. He read all the papers, and beguiled the rest of the evening with his banker's-book, before he took himself home to bed. He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased were a gloomy suite of rooms. It was old and dreary, for nobody lived in it but Winchester, the other rooms being all let out as offices. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house that it seemed as if the Genius of the Weather sat in mournful meditation on the threshold."

Sam walked up to his bedroom, thinking that he was exhausted and tired of everything that was happening. Soon, the voice came back and Sam bit his tongue, not wanting to enrage the voice.

"Upon arriving in his chambers, Winchester took off his cravat, put on his dressing gown, slippers, and his nightcap and sat down before the fire to take his gruel; for he had a cold in his head. It was a very low fire, indeed; nothing on such a bitter night. He was obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before he could extract the least sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel," the Trickster explained as Sam sat in front of the fire, playing with his food. It was hours before there was a bang within the house.

"Winchester!" A very deep voice called out. Sam immediately recognized it, dropped his dinner and ran to the door, hoping that Sherlock was okay. "Wiiincheester!"

"Humbug! I won't believe it," Sam muttered as he started to search for Sherlock in the room. Soon, Sherlock did come, but through the wall. He was definitely ghostly, but the way that Sam knew. Sherlock looked like someone had dumped a couple bags of flour and chained him to balls and boxes, and his expression seemed to reflect the idea. Sam sighed and read his lines "How's this?! What do you want with me?"

"Much," Sherlock muttered, more irritated than Sam was.

"Who are you?" Sam whispered, knowing that was a stupid question. However, Sherlock grinned and laughed.

"Ask me who I was," Sherlock instructed, having too much fun with this.

"Alright, who were you then?"

"In life I was your partner, Sherlock Holmes."

"Ha—I don't believe it," Sam grumbled, fully believing it.

"What evidence would you have of my reality, beyond that of your senses?" Sherlock replied before Sam rolled his eyes.

"I don't know."

"Why do you doubt your senses?" Sherlock asked lightly as Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You might be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are," Sam repeated as the chair fell over. Sam straightened, deciding to try harder. Suddenly, Sherlock screamed, but laughed toward the end, startling poor Sam. "What the hell- I mean, Mercy! Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?"

"Man of the worldly mind! Do you believe in me or not?"

"I do. I must! But why have you come to me?"

" It is required of every man that his spirit should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit does not go forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death—and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared, and turned to happiness! Oh, woe is me!" Sherlock informed dramatically, growing bored of this.

"You are fettered. Tell me why."

"I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, yard by yard, and wore it of my own free will. Is the pattern strange to you? Or would you know the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was as long and heavy as this seven Christmas Eves ago. You have labored on it since! It is a ponderous chain!" Sherlock explained as Sam saw nothing.

"Sherlock, old friend, please, speak comfort to me."

"I have none to give. I have little time. I cannot rest, I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole. Oh, not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh, such was I!"

"But you always were a good man of business, Sherlock," Sam added as Sherlock sighed, irritated.

"Business?! Humankind was my business! The common welfare was my business! Charity, mercy, forbearance and benevolence, were all my business! The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business! Oh, why did I walk through crowds of fellow beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me? Hear me! My time is nearly done!" Sherlock exclaimed, not wanting to go, as he didn't know where he was off to next.

"I will, Sherlock. But don't be hard on me!" Sam replied slowly, not wanting his friend to leave as well.

"I am here to warn you, that you have yet a chance of escaping my fate, a chance I have procured for you, Sam," Sherlock informed as Sam bit his lip, hating that the Trickster was using his real name.

"You always were a good friend! Thank- what? Thank…thankkeee?" Sam guessed, making Sherlock smile.

"You will be visited by three Spirits."

"Is...is that the chance you mention?"

"It is."

"Oh, well, then I, I think I'd rather not," Sam sighed, just wanting some sleep before dealing with the rest of this freak show.

"Without their visits, you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls one," Sherlock warned, bored.

"Can't they all come at once, and have it over with, Sherlock?" Sam whispered, wanting to go home.

"Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third, upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and for your sake, take care that you remember what has passed between us!"

"Oh, humb...?" Sam whispered, confused by the word before the voice came back.

"And so, Winchester lay in his bed and thought, and thought, and thought it over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavored not to think, the more he thought," the Trickster explained before Sam headed to the bed to at least get a little sleep. "Holmes's spirit bothered him exceedingly. Every time he resolved within himself, that it was all a dream, his mind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its first position and presented the same problem to be worked all through?"

"Was it a dream?" Sam whispered before looking around and remembering what was going on. Then the clock struck one. Sam slowly sat up, confused and he read his wrist. "The hour itself… and nothing else!"

"Winchester!" a voice shouted as Sam looked up and found the Trickster dressed in all white and glowing.

"You're the ghost?" Sam scoffed as it rolled its eyes.

"Just read your line," it instructed as Sam sighed.

"Are you the Spirit whose coming I was told about?"

"I am."

"Who, and what, are you?"

"I am the Spirit of Christmas Past," it answered as Sam bit his tongue again, not wanting to offend it.

"Long past?"

"No"

"Perhaps you could turn down that light that accompanies you?" Sam suggested as his eyes actually started to hurt.

"What! Would you so soon put out the light I give? Yours are the dark passions that would extinguish the light of truth!" It shouted as Sam shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend. (beat) What brings you here?"

"Your welfare, of course!" It answered again.

"I can't think of anything more conducive to my welfare than a night of uninterrupted sleep," Sam informed with a sly grin.

"Your reformation, then! Take heed! Rise, and walk with me!" It informed as it grabbed Sam's hand before they floated above the floor. Sam only stared, flabbergasted by what was going on. Then they flew through the window and to the horizon before it filled with a brilliant white light.


	10. Chapter 10

The Trickster, dressed as Christmas Past, flew Sam through the blinding light before landing at an old house in Kansas. Sam stared at the home as a lump formed in his throat. Sam refused to look at the Trickster as lines forged themselves onto his arm. He looked down and swallowed.

"Good heaven. I was bred in this place. I was a baby here," Sam mumbled before looking up. He could see his mother and father under the Christmas tree with little Dean opening his presents. Sam looked to his mother, who had a little baby on her lap. It was little baby Sam.

"Your lip is trembling. And what is that upon your cheek?" the Trickster asked, trying not to smile. Sam grimaced as he read the words.

"Oh, nothing. It must be a pimple. Lead me where you would, Spirit," Sam whispered before they appeared in the house. Christmas music was playing as Dean played with a new plane he had received. Dean looked so happy and excited as his parents smiled and exchanged their own gifts.

"Do you remember the way, Sam?" the Trickster inquired with glee. Sam shook his head before looking at his wrist.

"Remember it! I could walk it blindfolded," Sam informed with a straight face.

"Strange, that you've forgotten it for so many years," the Trickster reminded as Sam rolled his eyes. The place faded as they came to a small, old motel where Sam sat alone, watching the television. This was the first Christmas Sam could remember. Dean was out shopping as he watched specials all day while his father hunted. "Why don't you tell me what's going on."

"My mother died, burning on the ceiling, and my father went crazy with revenge, leaving me and Dean to fend for ourselves," Sam grumbled before turning to the Trickster. "What does this have to do with anything?! Why are you making me relieve my past?!"

"Shut up and read your lines, boy! And this will all make sense in the end. Don't forget that everyone's lives are on the line," the Trickster reminded as Sam took a deep breath.

"Let's just move on," Sam whispered before the Trickster spun a sister of Sam. "Who is she?"

"Your sister."

"I don't-"

"Right now, you do," the Trickster informed bitterly as Sam sighed and watched. It was Jo, sitting at the motel with him. Sam just watched, going with it. He would much prefer that the Trickster used her than a strange female version of his real brother, anyway. "Your sister died a young woman, but she did have a child, as I recall."

"What the he-" Sam began before the Trickster gave him a warning look. With a deep breath, Sam said, "Yes, a son, my nephew. His name is John Watson."

"Your nephew, Sam; the only family you have left," the Trickster added as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yes, that is true," Sam grumbled, going along with it again.

"Come along, Sam. It is time to see another Christmas."

Soon, another Christmas came into view as the Doctor stood by the door, looking very upset. Sam looked confused before a younger version of himself came as well. Sam followed himself as he saw that the Doctor was playing the man that introduced Jess to him. The Doctor gave Sam a trying look, knowing full well why he had such a minor role. Sam gave a nod of acknowledgement to the Doctor before staring at Jess, who was still breathing. It was the Christmas when they had met.

"Do you know this place?" The Trickster asked as pain shot through Sam's heart at the sight of Jess.

"Know it! This is where I met Jess! Look! It's Brady! Bless his heart! We were the best of friends!" Sam hissed, recalling that Brady was actually a demon at the time. Sam watched as Brady smiled as he introduced them.

"What is it?" The Trickster whispered as Sam shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Something, I think."

"No, no. It's...it's just that I would like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now. That's all," Sam replied, reading what was written.

"Come, Sam, my time grows short. Look!" The Trickster informed as his voice boomed overhead. Sam quickly looked around.

"This was not addressed to Winchester, or to anyone whom he could see, but it produced an immediate effect," the voice began as Sam looked at the Trickster.

"How are you doing that?" Sam asked, astonished. The Trickster shrugged before the voice bellowed again.

"For again Winchester saw himself. He was a little older now, a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years, but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice," the voice informed as the scene changed. Sam saw himself with Dean, outside his apartment. Jess's apartment. Sam looked away, unable to relive this all over again.

"Look, Sam," the Trickster whispered as Sam watched as the building burned to the ground.

"This wasn't Christmas!" Sam shouted as tears poured down his face. The Trickster shook his head.

"This event has shaped the man you are today. Didn't little Jess just love Christmas? Did her memory ruin your good spirit?!" the Trickster accused as Sam held out his finger.

"Who are you to judge me?" Sam demanded as the Trickster sighed. "Spirit! Show me no more! Conduct me home! Why do you enjoy torturing me?"

"There is one more shadow we must see," it informed as Sam recalled what the next trip would be, and he was pretty sure that he couldn't handle seeing Sherlock in a coffin.

"I don't wish to see it. Show me no more!" Sam shouted before the Trickster changed the setting once again.

"I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon," a man told another as they walked down the street. The second gentlemen smiled.

"Oh? Who was it?" the second man inquired, intrigued.

"Take a guess."

"Why, surely you don't mean old Sam Winchester!"

"The very same. I passed his office window. His partner, Sherlock Holmes, lies upon the point of death, I hear. And there he sat, old Winchester, all alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe," the first man sighed, almost feeling bad for Sam.

"Miserable wretch!" the next man replied, shaking his head. Sam turned to the Trickster, emotional.

"Spirit! Remove me from this place!" Sam demanded as the Trickster shook its head.

"I told you, these are shadows of the things that have been. That they are what they are, do not blame me!" it answered as Sam wanted to shout about how this didn't actually happen. That Sherlock was still alive and that he was doing everything that he was told to do. Instead, Sam just pursed his lips and evened his temper.

"Please, I beg you. Take me away from here! I can bear no more. No more!" Sam bellowed as the trickster shrugged and snapped his fingers.

"After this mighty struggle, if that can be called a struggle, Winchester was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness, and, further, of being in his own bedroom once again. He barely had time to reel to bed before he sank into a heavy sleep," the voice muttered as Sam opened his eyes, finding himself back on the bed that he had fallen asleep on. He sat up as he heard laughter from downstairs. Cautiously, Sam went downstairs and found a very overgrown Trickster, even taller than himself, eating all sorts of delicious sweets.

"Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha Ha ha! A-HA HA HA HA HA HA! WINCHESTER! SAM WINCHESTER!" It shouted between laughs. Sam just gave him a tired look, tired of the charade. "Come! Come here and know me better, man!...I am the Spirit of Christmas Present. You have never seen the likes of me before, eh? Ha ha ha ha!"

"No, never," Sam answered, liking his line for the first time here.

"You've never walked forth with any of my elder brothers born in these later years?" the Trickster asked as Sam raised an eyebrow.

"No, I don't think I have. Have you had many brothers, Spirit?" Sam asked blandly, not really caring.

"Ha ha ha! More than eighteen hundred! Ha ha!" The Trickster chuckled as Sam nodded slowly.

"A tremendous family to provide for," Sam repeated before the Trickster stood and stomped over to Sam, shaking the entire house.

"Take hold of my robe, Sam Winchester!" The Trickster instructed as he held out the hem of his robe.

"Where, pray tell, are we going?" Sam wondered aloud as the Trickster laughed.

"You will see!" the Trickster bellowed with a trail of laughter. Sam pursed his lips before he grabbed the fabric.

"Is there a peculiar flavor in what you sprinkle from your torch?" Sam asked, wondering what that even meant.

"There is, indeed. My own," the Trickster answered as he started to use his magic.

"Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?"

"To any kindly given. To a poor one most," it answered as they began to float. Sam held onto the hem tighter as he looked down.

"Why to a poor one most?

"Because it needs it most," it explained before they flew over the town. Sam looked down and found the Impala, where they had left it. Sam frowned as he realized that this was why the Trickster had created the town. As they flew, lines appeared on his arms again.

"Spirit, why do you, of all the beings in the many worlds about us, desire to cramp these people's opportunities of innocent enjoyment?" Sam asked, fulfilling his role.

"I?"

"Well, you would deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day, when markets are closed, often the only day on which they can be said to dine at all. Wouldn't you?" Sam implored, irritated by the Trickster's short answer.

"I?"

"You seek to close these places on the seventh day, and it comes to the same thing," Sam added as he watched to town below him pass by.

"I seek?" the Trickster replied again, earning a sour look from Sam.

"Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or at least in that of your family," Sam asked bitterly.

"There are some upon this earth of yours who claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us, and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doing on themselves, not us!" the Trickster declared as the started their descent. Sam rolled his eyes as they sunk down in front of an old house.


	11. Chapter 11

Suddenly, Dean was thrust into a small, very old house. He looked down at himself, shocked by the clothes he was wearing. Sure, he had pissed off the Trickster, but did he really deserve this? He was wearing a bonnet for Pete's sake! He looked down at the skirt, feeling annoyed and embarrassed, when a little girl came running down the stairs. He gave them a strange look before words came onto arm. He read them, confused, before red writing warned him against rebelling, as that would result in deaths of his friends. He looked up from his arm and sighed.

"What has ever got your precious father then? And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't this late last Christmas by half an hour!" Dean asked, very confused, before another girl appeared from behind the door, making him jump.

"Here I am, Mother!" the young women exclaimed before her sister cheered.

"Mother?!" Dean shouted before his arm burned, reminding him. He took a deep breath. "Oh, Martha! How late you are!"

"We had a great deal of work to finish at the milliner's last night, and a great deal to clear away this morning!" Martha informed, hardly noticing Dean slip up. Dean nodded, reading off his arm.

"Well, never mind. You are home now! Sit down and warm yourself, dear," Dean suggested bitterly, motioning toward the fireplace.

"Father will be home any minute. Hide, Martha, hide!" the little girl instructed as she giggled. Dean watched the girls scramble to hide as Dean had to admit that they were cute. Soon, Cas came through the door with Tiny Tim in his arms. Dean gaped, shocked to see Cas as the father. Cas looked up, surprised to see Dean in drag.

"Dean?" Cas whispered as Dean opened his mouth once or twice.

"What is going on, Cas?" Dean hissed as his arm burned from the words. Cas sighed and shrugged. Dean exhaled as Cas looked at his wrist. "How… how was work… _dear_?"

"Fine, but where's Martha?" Cas whispered as Dean shrugged, but smiled. Cas tilted his head, confused.

"She won't be coming for Christmas this year," Dean informed as Cas let Tiny Tim down. Cas glanced down at his wrist.

"What? Not coming for Christmas!" Cas repeated, surprised, going for a pen and paper. Suddenly, Martha popped out of the closet and laughed.

"Oh, here I am, Father!" Martha exclaimed before hugging Cas, who had a trying look. As Martha let go, two boys came speeding in to Tiny Tim.

"Come, Tim! Come hear the pudding singing in the copper!" The eldest suggested, taking Tiny Tim with them. Dean looked at his wrist as the heat came back.

"And did little Tim behave himself in church?" Dean asked as Cas scribbled down a note, explaining that this was the Christmas Carol, only real. Cas straightened as Dean read it.

"He did. As good as gold, and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant for them to remember, on Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see... But he's growing stronger every day, I just know it," Cas whispered as Dean sighed, wondering if he had ever been in a bigger mess. Dean turned away and looked at Martha.

"Martha, help me with the goose," Dean instructed as the children cheered, startling Dean.

"There's such a goose, Father, such as we've never had before!" the eldest informed with excitement. Cas only nodded as he looked at the bird.

"Such a goose!" Martha commented with a small smile.

"Just smell the sage and onion!" the eldest son added, his mouth watering.

"Mother outdid herself this year," the little girl complimented as Dean flinched at the word.

"We got it for a good price, Father!" the second oldest son explained, hoping to earn his praise. "It wasn't expensive at all!"

"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!" Cas toasted, holding up his cup. Dean and the children followed as Dean wished it was brandy instead of murky water.

"God bless us!" the children added as Tiny Tim leaned on the table.

"God bless us, everyone!" Tim exclaimed before he drank his water. Dean hesitated, noticing how selfless the small boy was.

~~C~~

Sam watched through the window, trying not to laugh at Dean's attire. As Sam and the Trickster continued to watch, Sam sobered, noticing the children. He felt ad for the children, since they had so little, but were so excited for Christmas.

"I had no idea Norvak had a crippled son," Sam read before looking through the window a Tiny Tim, who was so happy to have something to eat.

"I wonder why," the Trickster replied, rolling his eyes. Sam avoided eye contact and sighed.

"Tell me, Spirit. Will the boy live?" Sam whispered, knowing what the answer was. The Trickster took a deep breath as Sam turned to it.

"I see a vacant seat at this table, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, the child will die," it answered as his eyes went blank. Sam sighed and looked back at the little boy.

"No, no, that cannot be. Say he will be spared," Sam pleaded, actually wanting to the child to live on.

"If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, none other of my race will find him here. But what difference does it make? If he is likely to die, then let him die, and decrease the surplus population!" the Trickster shouted as Sam cringed.

"You use my own words against me," Sam read quietly, feeling bad for Tiny Tim.

"Yes! So that in the future perhaps you will hold your tongue until you have discovered what the surplus population is, and where it is. Who are you to decide who shall live and who shall die? It may be that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child!" it bellowed as they turned back to dinner.

~~C~~

"And now, dear ones, a toast. I give you Mr. Winchester, the founder of our feast," Cas explained plainly, lifting his glass once more. Dean rolled his eyes and read his own lines.

"The founder of our feast, indeed! I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and hope he'd have a good appetite for it," Dean read before looking up at Cas, realizing who he was insulting. Cas took a deep breath.

"My dear. The children. Christmas Day," Cas reminded as Dean nodded, feeling bad for saying such stuff about his brother.

"It should be Christmas Day, when one would drink the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Sam Winchester. No one knows it better than you, Cas," Dean explained as Cas nodded.

"My dear. Have a little charity," Cas added as the children looked at Dean.

"Oh, alright, then. I'll drink his health, for your sake and the Day's sake, but not for his. Long life to him! A very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I've no doubt he'll be very merry, indeed, and very happy!" Dean toasted light heartedly. Cas and the children lifted their glasses as well.

"To Mr. Winchester," Cas added.

"To Mr. Winchester," the children repeated before they finished their meal in silence.

~~C~~

The Trickster changed the scene as they appeared at the Watson house. Sam walked into the parlor, where he found a confused John, looking at his arm before seeing Sam, relieved. Sam urged him to go forward with his lines as he nodded.

"He said that Christmas was a humbug. He believed it, too!" John explained as the room laughed. John grimaced, not used to the attention. The woman next to him smiled up at him with loving eyes, making John uncomfortable.

"More shame for him, John!" she exclaimed as he nodded reluctantly.

"He's really a comical old fellow, and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offenses carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him," John reassured as Sam bit his lip.

"I'm sure he is very rich, John. At least you always tell me so," the woman added as John sighed, thinking that was true.

"But his wealth is of no use to him. He doesn't do any good with it. He doesn't make himself comfortable with it. And I sincerely doubt he would ever consider benefiting us with it," John mentioned before looking at Sam.

"Well, I have no pity for him," she argued, folding her arms. John turned to her surprised before looking back at his arm.

"Oh, but I have! Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself, always. Here, he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the consequence? He loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm. I mean to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not. I think I may have cracked the old boy yesterday, if I do say so myself! He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure, and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here's to Uncle Winchester!" John exclaimed, lifting his wine glass. The rest of the guests also raised their glasses.

"Uncle Winchester!" they cheered before laughing. John sighed before Sam and the Trickster began to fade again. Sam looked up at the Trickster before took them to a foggy area.

"I would normally take offense at such tasteless banter and laughter at my expense. However, in view of the general gaiety of the occasion, I am inclined to overlook it," Sam whispered, reading off his arm.

"That is quite noble of you!" The Trickster mentioned before something moved beneath the robes. Curious, Sam looked up at him.

"Forgive me, Spirit, if I am not justified in asking, but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding there, from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?" Sam read before the Trickster removed his robes to see a starving Rose at his feet, clinging to its pant leg. She looked dreadful and upset. Sam glared up at the Trickster as it began to age.

"It might be a claw, for all the flesh there is on it. Look here!" It shouted as Rose reached out for Sam. Sam fell to his knees, wondering if she was going to be okay.

"Spirit! What happened?!" Sam exclaimed, upset.

"This girl represents Want. Beware her, and all of her kind, but I dare ye to deny it! I dare ye to slander those who claim otherwise, and see where it leads!" The Trickster shouted as he withered away as Rose started to vanish as well.

"Have they no refuge or resource?" Sam yelled, blaming himself for what happened to her. The Trickster laughed loudly as he faded.

"'Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses'?" It whispered as it turned into the howl of the wind. Sam remained in the fog, alone and guilty.


	12. Chapter 12

As Sam sat in the darkness, a presence came up behind him. Sam took a deep breath before standing up slowly, his back facing the third apparition.

"I take it that I am in the presence of the Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come?" Sam grumbled, reading his wrist. When he turned around, he saw the hooded figure nodded. "You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us. Is that not so, Spirit?"

The spirit nodded.

"Spirit! I fear you more than any specter I have seen. Will you not speak to me?" Sam asked, done with this. The figure just pointed beyond Sam. "Very well! Lead on, then! The night is passing fast, and it is precious time to me. Lead on, Spirit!"

The specter led Sam through the fog before they came out in a strange, dark building. Sam stared at his arm, waiting for his cue lines.

"Why, I know those men! And this place—it is the stock exchange! It's a second home to me," Sam whispered before looking up at the men as the specter pointed.

"No, I don't know anything about it, either way. I only know he's dead," the first broker began.

"When did he die?" the second asked as they walked through the door. Sam followed, wanting to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Last night, I believe," the first one answered.

"Why, what was the matter with him? I thought he'd never die," the third broker laughed as Sam rolled his eyes.

"God knows," the first one yawned.

"What has he done with his money?" The fourth man asked as the first one shrugged.

"I haven't heard. Left it with his company, perhaps. I only know he hasn't left it to me," the first broker chuckled as the second nodded, lighting his pipe.

"Well, it's likely to be a cheap funeral. I don't know anybody who would go to it. Suppose we make up a party and volunteer?" the fourth suggested.

"I don't mind going if a lunch is provided. But I must be fed, for all the trouble it's worth," the third laughed as the others agreed.

"Well, it matters little to me either way. I never wear black gloves, and I never eat lunch. But I'll offer to go, if anyone else will. Well, off to business. Goodbye!" the fourth explained before huffs. The others waved as one passed through Sam.

"Goodbye!" the others called as they went on their way. Sam looked up at the figure and sighed.

"Have these men no sense of decency or decorum? Spirit, what is this? Why am I seeing this?" Sam implored as the ghost pointed in the other direction. Sam looked over and found two elderly women, caring a lot of things before an older man.

"I was here first! Mrs. Dilber shall be after me, and then the undertaker's man can be third. Isn't this something, Joe. All of us met here without meaning it," the first crone shouted as Joe smiled.

"You couldn't have met in a better place. Come in and sit! Don't be shy, we're all suitable to our calling. We're well matched, to be sure! Come in!" Joe urged, motioning them inside. She threw her bundle in front of the man before sitting down.

"What odds then? What odds, Mrs. Dilber? Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always did!" the woman cackled as Joe nodded.

"That's true, indeed! No man more so," Mrs. Dilber agreed.

"Well then, don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman; who's the wiser? We're not going to pick holes in each other's coats, I suppose?" the first woman mentioned as the other woman shook her head.

"No, indeed!" Mrs. Dilber replied as a man came in.

"We should hope not," he mentioned as the first woman nodded.

"Very well then. Who's the worse for the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose?" the woman snickered.

"No, indeed!" Mrs. Dilber repeated as the woman laughed again.

"If he wanted to keep 'em after he was dead, the wicked old screw, why wasn't he more natural in his lifetime? If he had been, he'd have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with death...instead of lying, gasping out his last there...all alone...by himself," the old woman laughed as Sam wrinkled his nose at her.

"It's the truest word that ever was spoke, Mrs. Oliver. It's a judgment on him," the undertaker's man complimented.

"I wish it was a little heavier one; and it should have been, you can count on it, if I could have laid my hands on anything else. Now, open that bundle, old Joe, and let me know it's value to ye. Speak out plain. I'm not afraid to be the first, nor afraid for them to see it. We knew pretty well that we were helping ourselves, before we met here, I believe. It's no sin to see to one's livelihood," the woman, apparently, Mrs. Oliver, suggested as the man produced his bundle. Joe opened it and smiled.

"Aha! Mr. Tackleton has been a busy man...Let's see, a seal..a pencil-case...a pair of sleeve buttons...hm...I'll give ye one pound eight—and not another sixpence, if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who's next?" Joe informed, handing the money to Tackleton. Mrs. Dilber presented her bundle as he went through it. "Ah, what a stash, Mrs. Dilber!...Of course, I always give too much to the ladies. It's a weakness of mine, and that's the way I ruin meself. Ha ha! (all laugh). Three pounds even, Mrs. Dilber. If you asked me for another penny, and made it an open question, I'd repent of being so liberal and knock off half a crown."

"And now undo my bundle, Joe! I was the first," Mrs. Oliver shouted as Joe nodded.

"Ah, and what do you call this? Bed-curtains!" Joe laughed as Mrs. Oliver beamed proudly. "You don't mean to say you took 'em down, rings and all, with him a-lying there?"

"And why not? He wasn't apt to catch his cold without 'em, I dare say," Mrs. Oliver cackled as Sam gaped, thinking that was disgusting.

"I hope he didn't die of anything catching? Eh?" Joe asked, afraid to touch the curtains. Mrs. Dilber just laughed.

"Don't you be afraid of that. I wasn't so fond of his company that I'd loiter about if he did," she mentioned with a scoff. Joe laughed as he pulled out a silk shirt, the same one that Sam was wearing at the time.

"Ah! You may look through that shirt till your eyes ache, but you won't find a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It's the best he had, and a fine one, too. They'd have wasted it, if it hadn't been for me," Mrs. Oliver informed as Joe looked at her.

"And what do you call wasting it?" he implored with a sly grin.

"Why, putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure!" Mrs. Oliver laughed again as Joe smiled.

"Four pounds, six shillings and twopence—and not a penny more if I was to be boiled for it!" Joe laughed, handing the poor lady some money.

"And this is how it ends. He scared every one away from him when he was alive, to profit us when he was dead!" Mrs. Dilber chuckled before leaving with Mrs. Oliver. Sam looked back at the ghost.

"Spirit, this is a fearful place. Surely there can be no reason to bring me to this Godforsaken part of the city, except that the case of this unhappy man might be my own. Yes, the items they have stolen are similar to mine. I see the point. But surely there is someone who feels some emotion caused by this man's death. Show that person to me, I beg you!" Sam read, fearing of what happened, or what will happen to him. The specter only changed the setting. Sam saw a young couple, stressed out of their minds.

"Oh, finally you've come, Thomas. What have you heard? Is it good, or bad?" the woman whispered as her husband sighed.

"It is bad, I'm afraid," he muttered before he hung up his coat. His wife hung her head and bit her lip.

"Are we ruined, Thomas? Did he deny you the extra time you asked for? Has he evicted us?" she whispered, worried out of her mind.

"No. There is hope yet, Caroline," Thomas informed, grabbing her cheeks. She sighed, closing her eyes.

"Only if he repents, that old miser. Nothing is past hope if such a miracle has happened," Caroline whispered as Thomas smiled.

"He is past repenting, dear. He is dead," Thomas informed before Caroline grinned.

"Dead! Oh, God be praised! Oh!...Lord, forgive me!" she called out, covering her mouth. Sam folded his arms, upset that he was in this situation.

"I thought he was merely trying to avoid me. But what I had been told is quite true. Not only was he very ill, but he was dying, even then," Thomas explained as Caroline tilted her head.

"To whom will our debt be transferred?"

"I don't know. But before that time we will be ready with the money. And even if we weren't, it would be bad fortune indeed to find a creditor who was as merciless as he! We may sleep tonight with light hearts, Caroline!" Thomas explained as the fog came in again. Sam turned to the ghost, annoyed to say the least.

"Spirit! I ask to see some emotion connected with this man's death, and you show me only pleasure. I demand to be shown some tenderness connected with a death!" Sam demanded, wanting nothing more than this to be over. The ghost's shoulders shook, as if it was laughing. Sam took a deep breath, knowing what was coming, and he was just glad that this nightmare was going to be over.


	13. Chapter 13

"'And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them. And he said to them, 'Whenever you welcome a little child, you welcome me,'" the eldest Norvak son whispered before he closed to the book. Dean sat there, confused on what happened, but apparently his son died. He felt bad for not knowing the child more, but was the child even real?

"This color hurts my eyes...There, better now. The candlelight makes them weak, and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father when he comes home. Not for the world. It must be near his time," Dean recited with a sigh. The eldest son sat with Dean and frowned.

"Past it, rather. But I think he's walked a little slower than he used to, these last few evenings, Mother," the eldest mentioned as Dean nodded slowly, using his cheat sheet.

"Yes. I've known him to walk with...I have known him to walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed," Dean whispered, leaning his head back.

"And so have I," the eldest whispered as the little girl came in. Dean pursed his lips, thinking that no little girl should have to go through the heartbreak of losing a sibling.

"And so have I," she added softly as Dean motioned her to come over. As she climbed into his lap, he sighed.

"But he was very light to carry. And his father loved him so, that it was no trouble, no trouble at all," Dean mentioned as the door opened. "Is that your father, now?"

"I went by there today, is why I'm late. I wish you could have been there. It would have done you good to see how green it is. But you'll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there every Sunday; to visit him, you see..." Cas mumbled, hanging up his coat. He had his brothers die, but this seemed different to Cas. He looked genuinely horrified by the fact that his child had died, even though the child wasn't really real. The children left Dean's lap and went to their father. "But guess whom I saw today? John Watson, Mr. Winchester's nephew. I met him on the street. He saw that I was a little down, and, well, he is the most pleasant-speaking man you ever heard, and so I was not afraid to tell him. And this is what he said to me: 'I am heartily sorry, Mr. Norvak, heartily sorry.' And he pledged to be of any service he could to us. He even gave me his card, and said I should call on him at home. But it's not for the sake of anything he might be able to do for us, so much as for his kind way, that am I thankful. It really seems as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt with us...And I've got good news for you, Peter!"

"What is it, Father?" the eldest replied as Dean learned his name.

"Mr. Watson told me that he has been able to secure an apprenticeship for you. You'll begin at eight shillings a week, starting Tuesday next!" Cas smiled, looking down at Peter.

"Eight shillings a week!" the boy exclaimed, never so happy in his life.

"Soon you will be keeping company with a young lady, Peter, and setting up house for yourself!" Martha teased as Cas gave a smile.

"That will happen soon enough. But however and whenever we're parted from one another, I'm sure none of us will ever forget poor Tiny Tim, shall we?" Cas whispered as the children shook their heads.

"No! Never, Father!" they all shouted, saddened.

"And I know, as well, my dears, that when we remember how patient and mild he was—although he was a little, little child—we shall not quarrel among ourselves, and forget our little Tim in doing it," Dean read before looking up again.

"No...we won't, Mother! Never!" they replied softly. Dean nodded before standing up and hugging them all. Cas smiled and joined in.

~~C~~

Sam stared through the window, saddened by the passing of his would be nephew, if this story made any sense. He stared up at the hooded creature, knowing full well that it was the Trickster still.

"Spirit, something tells me that the moment of our parting is at hand. I know it but I don't know how. Tell me, the man who was spoken of, the one who died, tell me who he was," Sam whispered, wanting to get out of this mad dream. The ghost pointed over his head again as Sam sighed. He turned and found that they were in a cemetery and it was pointing at a particular stone. "Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point, answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that will be, or are they the shadows of things that may be, only? The course of a man's life, if persevered in, will determine certain ends; I accept it. But if he departs from those courses, the ends must change. Say it is so with what you show me!"

The ghost continued to point before Sam walked over to the stone. He uncovered the snow to find his name written beneath. Sam took a deep breath, unnerved by the sight. It may not be real, but it was still shocking to see.

"No, no, it can't be! Am I that man?! Am I the man who died whom no one mourned? Say it isn't so, Spirit! Say it isn't so!" Sam recited staring at his wrist. He turned to the specter, who was just standing there. "Spirit! Hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for your intervention. Why show me this, if I am past all hope? Surely your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I may yet change these shadows you have shown me, by a changed life!"

As the ghost began to shake, Sam shook his head, deciding to speak louder.

"I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will remember the lessons of the Past; I will live in the Present; I will live toward the Future. The spirits of all three will strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me that I may sponge away the writing on this stone!" Sam shouted, meaning it. He knew that Christmas was important, he just didn't have great memories, but know he knew that he needed to make new memories to overwrite the old ones. Christmas was going to be his again. Suddenly, a chasm opened over the grave as Sam fell. He stared wide eyed at the coffin beneath before shutting his eyes, bracing for impact.

Not feeling the cold coffin beneath him, Sam slowly opened his eyes to find himself back in bed with the sun shining in the room. He slowly emerged, surprised and relieved. It was almost over. He could go home very soon. He smiled and jumped to the floor before reading his wrist once again.

"Wha...? Where am I? Wait...what day is this? It's morning, but what day? How long have I been with the Spirits? I don't know. But I'm alive. I'm alive! They are still here! They're not torn down. They are here. I am here! Woo-hoo! I don't know what to do! I feel light as a feather. I'm happy as an angel! I'm as merry as a school-boy!" Sam cheered, feeling the same as his words. He took to the window and looked around, just as he was instructed. Just then, a small boy, who had been caroling the day before, came down the street. "Hallo! You, boy! What day is it?"

The boy saw Sam and began to run.

"Wait, don't be afraid my boy! What day is it?" Sam shouted as the boy stopped.

"What day is it?" the boy called back, making Sam smile.

"Yes! What day is it today?"

"Why, it's Christmas Day!"

"Christmas Day! Are you quite sure, my good fellow?" Sam shouted with a laugh. They boy just gave him an odd look.

"I should say I am," he replied.

"Then the Spirits have done it all in one night. Why, of course, they can do anything they like! Of course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!" Sam shouted as the boy nodded.

"Hallo!"

"Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the corner?"

"I should hope I did."

"What a wonderful boy. A remarkable boy! Do you know whether they've sold the prize turkey that was hanging up there?" Sam asked, knowing that it was still there.

"What, the one as big as me?" the boy asked with a grin.

" What a delightful boy! A pleasure talking with him. Yes, my buck, the one as big as you!" Sam laughed as the boy nodded.

"It's hanging there now."

"It is? Why, then you must go and buy it. Yes, go and buy it now," Sam suggested, shocking the boy, who starting to call for the police. "Oh, no, no. I really do mean it. Go and buy it, and tell them to bring it 'round, so that I can give them directions where to deliver it. Come back with the man and I'll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than five minutes and I'll give you half a crown!"

Sam watched the boy take off before retreating back inside and getting himself dressed. About halfway through, he realized that he had no idea how to put half this stuff on, but he tried anyway and read the lines.

"I'll send it to Cas Norvak's! He won't know who sent it. I won't tell him! Ha ha! It's twice the size of Tiny Tim! Oh...Tiny Tim...Tiny Tim will live. On my soul, Tiny Tim will live!...They did it all in one night!...The Spirits of Christmas Past, Present and Future shall strive within me! (on his knees) Oh, heaven and Christmas Time be praised for this! I say it on my knees, dear Lord, on my knees!" Sam explained before running out of the house and onto the street. "A Merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!"

"Halloo!" The boy cheered, bring the poulterer along with him.

"Ah! Here's the Turkey! Hallo! How are you, my boy! I was right, ha ha, this turkey is twice the size of Tiny Tim! It's twice the size of you, my lad!" Sam laughed before the boy took off with the money. Sam turned toward the man and smiled. "Merry Christmas, my fine fellow!"

"Merry Christmas, sir," the man whispered, thinking that Sam could be a mad man.

"Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town. You must have a cab, sir!" Sam exclaimed, realizing how far it was.

"Camden Town, sir?" the man whispered, wondering why he would want it there.

"Yes! This splendid turkey is to be delivered immediately to the home of Cas Norvak and family, in Camden Town. Here, I've written the directions down. And here is the money for the Turkey!" Sam smiled, handing the man the money. He smiled and nodded, thinking that he didn't care if Sam was crazy.

"Thank you, sir."

"And here is the money for the delivery!"

"Thank you, sir."

"And here is a tip for you, sir!" Sam added as the man nodded.

"Thank you, sir!" the man smiled before leaving. Sam smiled and hummed a happy tune.


	14. Chapter 14

As Sam pranced down the street, he met Mr. Jeeves and Mr. Howell, who had come in the previous day, asking for a donation. Sam smiled, realizing that he was going to be able to right his wrongs and walked over to them.

"My dear sir," Sam exclaimed, shaking Mr. Jeeves' hand. "How do you do? I hope you did well yesterday. It was a very good thing to do. A very good thing."

"Mr. Winchester?" Mr. Howell whispered, surprised.

"Yes. That is my name. I fear it isn't pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your forgiveness. And yours, too, sir!" Sam exclaimed and laughed.

"Yes, sir," Mr. Howell smiled, shocked to see Sam change so much.

"And will you have the goodness-" Sam asked before whispering into Howell's ear.

"Lord, bless me! My dear Mr. Winchester, are you quite serious?" he whispered, stupefied to say the least.

"If you please. Not a farthing less. A great many back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favor?" Sam implored as they both nodded earnestly.

"My dear sir, I don't know what to say to such generos-" Howell began as Sam shook his head.

"Don't say anything, please. Come and see me sometime! Will you come and see me, both of you?"

"We will! We will!" they both chanted before leaving, making Sam laugh.

"Thank'ee. I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you both, and a Merry Christmas!" Sam called out as he walked along the road, spinning the cane in his hand.

"Would you believe it if I told you, that Winchester went to church that day? He did. And walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head as they passed, and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the windows, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk, that anything at all, could give him so much happiness. In the afternoon, he turned his steps toward his nephew's house," the booming voice explained overhead as Sam went to the door.

~~C~~

"Oh, John. It's beautiful! And it's too much. You shouldn't have spent so much!" the woman exclaimed, hugging John. John smiled and nodded, not realizing that he had bought her a necklace. He checked his wrist and grimaced.

"But I love you, my dear, and my wife shall have the best on Christmas Day," John muttered as she grinned.

"Oh, John. I love you so...but not just for this!"

"I know, my dear! I know," John mumbled, wondering when this was going to be over and he could go home, back to London. Then, there was a knock at the door. John jumped up to get it.

"Now who can that be?" she whispered, confused.

"I don't know. No one's expected at this hour," John replied, equally confused. As he opened the door, he found a smiling Sam on the other side. John sighed, completely relieved.

"Hello, John!" Sam exclaimed as John's _wife_ gasped.

"Uncle Winchester!" John replied, reading off his wrist.

"The very same! It is I, your Uncle Winchester. I recall an invitation you made to me yesterday, to come and dine with you. If that invitation is still in force, I should like to accept," Sam explained as John smiled before his wife came in.

"Why, I don't know what to say!" John replied as she stood next to him.

"Well, you could say bah-humbug-a retort I heartily repent of and shall never use again-or, you could say, Come in!" Sam smiled as John nodded.

"Come in? Why, of course! Of course you shall come in! Hoorah! Uncle Winchester, you have made us both very happy! Oh, may I introduce my wife, Janet? Janet, my Uncle Winchester," John replied, looking between them. Janet gave a small smile, not sure about Sam.

"My dear, it is plain to me now why my nephew chose you among women. You are indeed every bit as lovely as I have heard," Sam complimented before John gave a weak smile.

"Why, thank you...Uncle Winchester. We are very happy you are here!" Janet whispered, flattered. Sam then turned to John and sighed.

"I am sorry for the things I said about Christmas. And sorry for the poor reception I gave you yesterday, of which you were so undeserving. I see the image of my sister in your face. I loved her, you know. And she, you," Sam informed before John smiled and laughed.

"I know it, Uncle Winchester. She loved you very much, and wished until her dying day that we should always be close," John answered, hoping that Sam wouldn't leave until they were put back next to the Impala.

"And so we are, John, and so we shall be. So we shall be," Sam whispered before entering the house for Christmas festivities.

~~C~~

Sam sat back at his counting house, writing things down, when Cas came in, rather late. Sam looked up and sighed, not wanting to yell at him. He stood up and looked at his employee.

"What is this?" Sam growled as Cas froze, surprised by his tone.

"Morning, Sa- urm, sir," Cas corrected before sitting down.

"Mr. Norvak, you are late, sir," Sam whispered, putting down his quill.

"Yes, sir."

"What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?"

"I am very sorry, sir. I am behind my time," Cas informed, narrowing his eyes. Sam stood from his desk and walked over to Cas. "It's only once a year, sir. It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, with my family."

"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend. I am not going to stand for this any longer. And therefore...and therefore... and therefore...I am going to double your salary!" Sam exclaimed before smiling and laughing. Cas stared at him, thinking that the Trickster must have hit him hard over the head. Sam embraced Cas in an uncomfortable hug. "Yes, Cas Norvak! I am going to double your salary, sir. A Merry Christmas to you! A merrier Christmas than I have given you for many a year! And from now on I will endeavor to assist your family in any way I can...And as for Tiny Tim, he will walk again. I know it! Now, you needn't say a thing. Come with me. We will discuss the particulars over a bowl of smoking bishop before you so much as dot another i, Cas Norvak!"

"Sam, are you okay?" Cas whispered as they walked outside. Sam only laughed and nodded.

"I haven't felt this good in years!" Sam shouted before chuckling. Cas just stared at him, thinking that there was something very wrong.

"Winchester was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more. And to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was a second father," the voice informed as Sam and Cas arrived at the Norvak house. Dean walked outside, surprised to see his brother intact. Sam smiled and hugged his brother before picking up Tiny Tim. "He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew. And ever afterward it was always said of Sam Winchester that he knew how to keep Christmas, and keep it well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed..."

"God bless us everyone!" Tiny Tim shouted with his crutch raised. Sam laughed heatedly, lifting the boy higher. Soon, the setting became a blinding light, changing everything around them.

~~C~~

Sam found himself laying on the asphalt next to Dean's beloved Impala. He glanced around to find Dean not far from him with Cas next to him. Rose and the Doctor were a little passed them, and Sherlock and John were on the other side of the Impala. Sam slowly stood up, leaning against the car.

"Sam," a voice whispered as Sam turned around to see the Trickster.

"Why did you do that?"

"Partly fun, but not for revenge, like I said. I find Christmas a very important time of year, so it breaks my heart to see someone who hates it like you did," it answered with a grin. Sam sighed, confused.

"Do you do this often?"

"Almost every Christmas. Why do you think there are so many remakes of that story every year?" the Trickster chuckled as Sam shook his head.

"So you have a heart after all."

"Seems so. Although, that part with your brother was definitely revenge," it winked before snapping its fingers and vanishing. Sam blinked as everyone started to wake up.

"Oh, God, please tell me that was a dream," Dean whispered as Cas stood.

"I do not believe it was," Cas whispered, blushing a little. Dean took a deep breath before turning to Sam.

"We don't speak of this. Ever," Dean whispered before walking away. Cas just stood there, not exactly sure what just happened. Sam walked over to Rose and the Doctor. Rose was slightly shaking when she woke up. The Doctor gingerly helped her stand as she gripped his arms.

"Are you okay?" Sam whispered as Rose slowly turned to him.

"Did you see what I was? I shouldn't have been alive," she muttered, remembering how frail, thin, and grey she was. The Doctor sighed and shook his head. The Trickster appeared behind a corner, motioning the Doctor to come over. Once he was sure that Rose was safe with Sam, he wandered over.

"What do you want?" the Doctor hissed as the Trickster grinned.

"I'm surprised you didn't give away my secret," it mentioned. The Doctor looked away and nodded.

"You would have stopped me if I tried. Besides, I don't need an angel chasing me down. I know I wouldn't be able to run for long," the Doctor informed, looking back at him. "The question is, why are you running, Gabe?"

"There's something big coming and I don't want to get in it. If I were you, I would stay out of it as well, if angels aren't your thing. It's going to be big and possibly deadly," Gabriel informed as the Doctor nodded.

"Is that what you came to tell me?"

"No, I wanted to tell you that the Winchesters are dangerous, as well. Don't go bringing them on your adventures," the angel warned as the Doctor nodded.

"No, I know. I've dealt with them before. I know what they're capable of, and I don't think I could handle them on the TARDIS. Gabriel nodded as he looked over. "I'm surprised that Castiel didn't figure it out."

"I gave him a distraction. It's not like here's heard this vessel before," he replied, implying that he had an anti-angel ward on him. As Sherlock and John began to stand up, Gabriel sighed. "I think you better go back. They might come looking for you."

"Yeah, you're right. And you better leave those boys alone, Gabe. They're dangerous, even for you," the Doctor warned before the angel smiled and vanished. The Doctor sighed as Rose came up next to him, a little bit of color coming back in her face.

"Who were you talking to, Doctor?" she wondered, looking around.

"Hm? Oh, no one. Just trying to figure out things," he answered before they walked back to the car so they could get back to Bobby's.


	15. Chapter 15

It was about an hour drive home, and for most of it, everyone was silent. John wasn't exactly sure what had just happened, and Sherlock refused to explain his ridiculous role, even though he secretly loved the character. Rose was still shaking between Sam and Dean as the Doctor gazed out the window, hardly phased. Dean was still embarrassed by the cross dressing, but Sam was a completely different story. He was happy and perky, just as he was when he had carried Tiny Tim on his shoulders. Dean was almost positive that the Trickster did something to him, but he was sure it would wear off. Besides, this was the happiest he had seen Sam in weeks, and Dean wasn't about to ruin that.

Soon, Dean pulled into the driveway as Bobby ran down the steps from the porch. Dean parked the Impala in front and got out. Bobby ran to Sam, as he was the closest, and embraced him. Sam laughed and hugged the old man.

"What happened, Bobby?" Dean asked as he looked up.

"You boys were gone for hours. I tried calling, but you didn't answer. And then Helen called to wish you boys a Merry Christmas, and it turned out that she didn't call earlier," Bobby explained as Dean nodded.

"Yeah, the Trickster was waiting for us, but I have a question. Is it still Christmas Eve?" Dean implored as Bobby was taken back.

"Christmas Eve? God, what happened to you boys? Of course it's Christmas Eve!" Bobby shouted as Dean smiled.

"Good, I thought we missed it," Dean sighed as the others trickled out of the car.

"What happened back there?" Bobby whispered as Dean shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dean replied darkly before going inside for eggnog. Bobby looked at Sam, who only shrugged and followed Dean. John looked up at the Doctor and then Sherlock.

"When are we going home?" John whispered, hoping that they weren't planning another crazy adventure. The Doctor shrugged and looked over at Rose, who almost back to normal.

"Tomorrow? After Christmas dinner?" the Doctor suggested as Sherlock grinned.

"Sounds perfect," Sherlock replied as John stepped forward.

"I don't think that's a good idea," John informed as the Doctor smiled.

"There won't be any more Tricksters to deal with now. And if Sam or Dean get a call, we won't tag along. How 'bout that?" the Doctor negotiated as John reluctantly agreed, knowing that the Doctor was his only way home. "Besides, I told you that you would be home by this morning. One more day won't be terrible, would it?"

"I would hope not," John sighed with a quick look at Sherlock.

"Perfect," Sherlock smiled before going inside. The Doctor put his arm on Rose's shoulder, guiding her inside, with John just behind.

Inside, it smelled of honey baked ham and coffee. Even Sherlock had to smile at how festive everything was. Cas helped Bobby in the kitchen as Sam and Dean sat on the couch, watching more Christmas specials.

"So, Cas can just appear wherever he wants?" John asked, sitting next to Dean on the couch. Dean shrugged.

"Mostly."

"So, he's been here for an hour and a half now?" John continued as Dean nodded.

"I think so. I don't really see Bobby letting him sit out in the snow. He and Bobby get along pretty well," Dean commented as he saw Cas help take the ham out of the oven. John nodded and smiled.

"You have a pretty good family here," John smiled as he watched Cas. Then he looked over at Sherlock, who was talking to the Doctor and Rose. Dean grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, we really do," Sam added, jumping in the conversation.

On the other side of the house, in Bobby's study, Sherlock was asking questions about angels and the supernatural.

"Cas does have wings," the Doctor informed firmly. Sherlock shook his head.

"Then where are they? Shouldn't I be able to see them?" Sherlock pressed as the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"No, they reflect a different light frequency. Plus, he's in a vessel. That isn't really him," the Doctor tried to explain, which was easier than trying to tell Sherlock that Cas could basically apparate. Rose smiled, thinking this was a bit funny.

"A vessel?"

"Yes, a vessel! Cas is possessing someone!"

"Isn't that supposed to be against one's moral code or something?" Sherlock asked, recalling that demons also possess people.

"Angels need permission, so the people are willing," the Doctor sighed, knowing even if he did have a problem with the idea of vessels, there was nothing he could to about it.

"Does that mean that there is a God after all?" Sherlock whispered, confused.

"Maybe. Never actually met him, but I would assume so. Cas is definitely good evidence," the Doctor admitted as Sherlock sighed. Before Sherlock could ask another deep question, Bobby came in an apron and oven mitts.

"Hey, dinner's ready," he informed with a smiled before retreating back into the kitchen. Rose dragged the Doctor into the living room, as Bobby didn't have a huge dining table. Dean and Sam were able to clear off the coffee table to fit the ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, and beer. Dean sat between Cas and Sam as John sat on the chair closest to Sam. Sherlock brought a chair from the kitchen to sit next to John as Rose and the Doctor sat on the floor. Bobby sat in the arm chair next to the fire place as everyone began to eat.

"Dean, shouldn't we say a prayer?" Cas whispered as Dean filled his mouth with potatoes.

"I usually don't," Dean muttered after he swallowed. Cas frowned.

"Why not? It is Jesus's birthday," Cas reminded as Dean sighed and nodded.

"Fine, fine," he whispered as he quieted everyone down. When everyone gave him their attention, Dean cleared his throat and bowed his head. "Happy Birthday Jesus!"

"Happy Birthday indeed!" Rose shouted with laughter, raising her glass. Cas rolled his eyes and looked at Dean.

"That's not what I meant," Cas complained as Dean shrugged.

"I knew exactly what you meant, but I thought that was more friendly," Dean confessed before handing Cas a plate of food.

"I don't need to eat, Dean," Cas informed as Dean sighed.

"Yes, I am fully aware of that, but that doesn't mean you can't eat," Dean countered, shoving the plate toward the angel. Cas stared at him for a moment before accepting it. "Thank you."

"Dean," Cas whispered before Dean held up his finger.

"It's Christmas, Cas. Just eat the food," Dean urged as Cas took a bite of the ham. "How is it?"

"I've never had it before," Cas answered.

"But how does it taste? Now that you've had it?"

"Good. I think it's sweet," Cas replied with a hint of a smile. Dean nodded, proud of his friend.

"That's honey for ya," Dean laughed as Cas kept eating. Dean turned to Sam, who was still giddy and excited. "How you feelin'?"

"Fantastic! I haven't been this good in ages!" Sam exclaimed with a manic grin. Dean smiled as well, wondering if this was going to make his brother go insane.

"Good. That's good. So, no more grinchiness from you?"

"Nope. I've seen the Christmas spirit, Dean, and it's inside me for the first time in years!" Sam explained as Dean nodded and patted his back.

"That's good to hear," Dean whispered, not exactly sure how to respond to that. Dean looked around and smiled. It was a long time since he had so many friends and family around him. Especially for Christmas. Even though he had only met half of them a day earlier, it felt like he had known them for years.

"I'm going to be right back," the Doctor announced, surprising everyone.

"Where are you going?" Rose demanded, needing her buddy to make sure that she didn't spiral into madness.

"To the TARDIS. I'm not going anywhere, or anywhen. I'm just need to get something real fast," the Doctor informed as he left. Rose bit her lip as she started to eat the ham. John glanced at Sherlock.

"You're really okay with this? Being at a Christmas party? Voluntarily?" John inquired as Sherlock looked about the room.

"Of course. These people are interesting, unlike Anderson back in London. They've experienced so much that we couldn't even dream of it. That man over there, for example, is a real angel. Have you ever talked to an angel before, John?"

"No…"

"Exactly. Imagine what he has seen and done. And the man that just left is an alien. Think about what he's seen and done," Sherlock whispered, looking at Cas and Rose.

"Didn't Dean go to Hell?" John added before Sherlock shrugged.

"I can't say I believe him, but look at all these stories that can be unraveled. All the tales that could be told," Sherlock explained, awed. "As much as I love London, I have yet to meet more interesting people than these."

"Is that the reason why you never go to the parties that Lestrade throws?"

"The reason exactly. If I have to listen to one more boring story about spouses or children, I will strangle someone," Sherlock answered, making John laugh under his breath. Before he could say anything, there was a thump at the door. Bobby slowly got up, wondering what had happened. When he opened the door, he found the Doctor, dressed in a Santa suit and carrying a large bag.

"Do you need help with that?" Bobby asked as the Doctor shook his head.

"Nah, I'm fine," he replied before setting the bag on the floor in the living room.

"Where did you get these?" Rose whispered, looking in the bag to find gifts.

"I lied. I went shopping and then wrapped these," the Doctor informed, earning a very dirty look from Rose. The Doctor took a deep breath before looking at the first one. "This one's for Bobby."

"You didn't have to get gifts," Bobby sighed before ripping it opened. Inside the box, he found a new flask. Bobby laughed as he looked at it. "This is just what I needed."

"Really? Oh, good. I was hoping that you'd like it," the Doctor smiled before reaching back in the bag. "John!"

"Thank you," John smiled as he took off the paper and looked inside. "Is this…"

"A new sweater! You seemed to like them, I thought, and it's a color I thought you would like," the Doctor finished as John held up the hunter green jumper. John nodded and laughed.

"It's great. Thank you."

"You are welcome," the Doctor smiled. "Sherlock."

"Thank you, Doctor," Sherlock sighed, hating when people gave him gifts. He was always able to guess them. However, this time, he was confused, and he wasn't sure he liked that more. When he opened it, he looked confused. He took it out and it looked like a skull, but it wasn't human. "What is it?"

"It's a Sycorax skull. I bought it on a faraway moon in a few galaxies down. Thought your skull might need some company," the Doctor reasoned, making Sherlock smile.

"It will do very nicely," Sherlock chuckled.

"Sam!" the Doctor exclaimed as Sam grabbed the box and opened it. Inside, he found a book that he had been wanting for quite a while. It was Stephen King's The Shining. Sam smiled and laughed.

"How did you know?" Sam asked, happily surprised.

"Heard you liked books, and it's about ghosts, so I filled in the blank," the Doctor smiled before reaching for another present. "Rose!"

"About time," she mumbled as she looked at the small box. When she opened it, she smiled and laughed. It was a small, glowing box that showed picture of their travels together.

"It's a mental scrapbook. It takes memories and changes them into pictures," the Doctor smiled as Rose thanked him over and over again. "Cas."

"I am not familiar with unwrapping gifts," the angels whispered as he retrieved the box. He looked at it carefully before gently ripping the paper until it was off, which irritated Dean quite a bit. Cas opened the box to find a brilliant new tie with Christmas trees all over it. Cas smiled, thinking that this was an outrageous present, but it looked fun all the same. "Thank you."

"Of course, Cas," the Doctor smiled as Dean helped Cas put it on. "Dean, the last gift is for you."

"Well, thank you," Dean replied after finishing Cas's tie. Dean took the gift and quickly unwrapped it, wanting to know what was inside. He looked in and bit his lip. "This is too much Doctor."

"What is it?" Sam asked, putting down the book for a minute. Dean smiled and laughed softly before pulling out his gift. It was a picture frame with the Winchesters before the incident with Mary.

"It's us, Sam," Dean whispered, hoping his voice wouldn't crack. Bobby wiped a tear away. Sam looked at it and teared up, unable to say anything. Rose smiled softly as John covered his mouth, thinking that present was the sweetest thing ever. "How did you get this?"

"Well, I had to sneak into your house a few days before it burnt down," the Doctor sighed with a soft smile. Dean nodded a few times before standing up to hug the Doctor. "I am so glad you like the gift."

"Thank you," Dean whispered before he looked the Doctor in the eye. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," the Doctor whispered as Sherlock stared, unable to really feel the emotion. John shook his shoulder before Bobby stood up.

"Now who wants to decorate cookies?" Bobby asked as everyone cheered and stood up to go make a merry Christmas.


End file.
